


The Make-Up Artist: Part 2

by BlueJeanBaby1189



Category: Actor RPF, British Actor RPF, Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Celebrity Crush, Drama & Romance, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Love, Romance, Slow Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-14
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-01 16:53:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 116,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23650369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueJeanBaby1189/pseuds/BlueJeanBaby1189
Summary: A continuation of the The Make-Up Artist.I struggled with how and if I should continue this story. I've had this idea for a second part since I finished the first one, but thought I should just leave the story as it is. However, I've had many ask for a sequel and I guess I am having trouble letting this story go. That being said, please know that this second part will be a little different than the first part. It will include themes that you may not agree with and do not fall in line with your feelings, so please proceed with caution.I felt it was time to take this story to the next level and I understand if it's not for everyone. Please also keep in mind that this is a work of FICTION and should be taken as such, even though some of the characters are based off real people.If you do decide to read, then please enjoy!
Relationships: Taron Egerton/Original Female Character(s), Taron Egerton/You
Comments: 207
Kudos: 72





	1. Prologue: The Dream

You are sitting on the beach back at Aberystwyth with Taron. It's a particularly sunny day, which seems a bit out of a place considering the overall gloomy weather this part of the country seems to have. At least what you've seen of it. Today however the weather is perfect; calm, still and just the right temperature. You are both sitting at the water's edge directly on the smooth rocky shore, no blanket or anything beneath you, but it doesn't bother you in the least. The ground could be filled with fluffy clouds for all you know. The waves are quite high at the moment so the sea spray hits you in the face every once in awhile, but you don't care, you're too happy. Taron is sitting cross-legged on the beach facing the water and you are perched happily on his lap, gazing lovingly down at his face. He's dressed in the glittery baseball uniform from the movie, just like the last time you saw him, but this doesn't seem odd to you and you don't bother to wonder why. You notice that his hair and face are damp, with tiny little beads forming on his forehead and temple, and you're not sure if it's from sweat or the sea water. You bring your hands up to his receding hairline and smooth his hair back against his head. Then you run your hands down and over his face, loving the way he tilts his head up toward you and closes his eyes as you caress him. You love touching his face, you always have. After trailing your fingers all over his lovely features, you lean down and close your own eyes and kiss him gently on his salty lips. Taron cradles you tightly against him as the warmth from his mouth fills you to the core with a tenderness that makes you want to cry. Needing to feel him even closer, you bring your hands down his face and neck to wrap them around his back; but when you reach the place where his broad shoulders should be, your hands grasp at thin air and close into tight fists. Opening your eyes, you find that you are now sitting alone on the beach and the skies have turned grey and dull. The rocks are no longer smooth and they jut out at your skin, jabbing and prodding you with their sharp edges. The wind suddenly picks up and it whips your hair into your face and eyes, stinging you with sea water. Brushing your hair out of your face so that you can see, you stand up to look around, thinking he might have just wandered off somewhere. Doing a complete 360 turn and bracing yourself against the raging wind, you finally face the water again to see him standing in the shallow waves, some ten feet away from you. You have to squint against the wind, but you can see that the water is lapping forcefully at his calves, soaking his costume and turning it an odd flat color. The bright sequins of the clothing are gone, and are now replaced with something dreary and colorless. You're confused, but you hold your hands out to him anyway, beckoning him to come back to you. But he simply stares into your eyes with an empty expression that makes you feel hollow inside. His once luminous eyes now match his outfit, lifeless and without color. You watch in horror as he slowly walks backwards against the foamy water, never taking his eyes off yours, until he's up to his waist, then his shoulders, then his head... Then Taron is gone. You want to scream but you can't find your voice and your throat is tightening by the second. You want to run to him but your feet are like cement against the unrelenting ground beneath you. You feel the panic rise within you, the chest pain engulfing you, the fear paralyzing you...until all you see is black...

Then, you wake up. 

It's the same dream you've been having at least once a week since you returned home almost five months ago. The level of intensity varies from night to night; sometimes it's accompanied by chest pains, sometimes it isn't. You've grown accustomed to it and expect it to plague your nightly slumbers from time to time, and have even put off going to sleep until you literally can't keep your eyes open to keep the nightmare at bay. Usually when you wake, you practice the breathing techniques the doctor gave you to try and calm the panic attacks you sometimes experience. Inhaling slowly and deeply through your nose. Keeping your shoulders relaxed. Trying to focus on your abdomen expanding and keeping your chest still. Exhaling slowly through your mouth. Pursing your lips slightly, but keeping your jaw relaxed. You repeat this breathing exercise for several minutes until the anxiety subsides. Breathe in...breathe out... Breathe in...breathe out... On rare occasions, you've even taken to texting Richard to have a calming "voice" to talk you down. You've tried not to bother him too much, he really is a good friend and you don't want him to think you are simply using him as your emotional support animal, so to speak. You've never told him the details of the dream, just that you sometimes have nightmares which cause you to have anxiety attacks. You know rationally that they are only dreams, but they're so real and unsettling that you can't help but wonder what they mean, if they mean anything. Richard has suggested that it might be time to think about talking to a professional, but you're not quite ready to take it to that level just yet.

One thing you've been careful not to do, even when the nightmares are at their worst, is let yourself cry. Because you know once you do, you might not be able to stop, and you have to find some way to get over Taron and the memories of your time together once and for all. All you can do is hope that someday, somehow; the pain will become less, the separation will become easier and the dream will slowly fade away...


	2. A Night at the Troubadour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reconnect with Taron at the Troubadour.

As Taron approaches you in the bright sunshine of the day, you squint at him, trying to take in everything about his appearance without looking directly at him. Looking at him is like looking at the sun, especially after not seeing him for so long. You've imagined a scenario like this so many times and now that it's actually happening, you can't quite believe it. Now that he is a mere few feet from you, you can see that his hairline has definitely grown back, and has filled in nicely with a pleasing shade of brown. He also has a good amount of scruff on his strong jawline and chin. He looks...good. Really good. In fact, you had almost forgotten just how amazingly beautiful he is, and it causes your heart to do a familiar flip-flop. You suddenly wish that you were wearing something other than jeans and a sweater, but it can't be helped. Now standing directly in front of you, Taron is the one to speak first.

"Hello", Taron says quietly as he removes his sunglasses to look in your eyes. The jade color of them out here in the sunlight is stunning, to say the least.

"Hello Taron, it's good to see you", you say in a much too formal way.

"W-what are you doing here?" He asks, searching your eyes with his. You can tell that he's trying to keep his cool, but you see a spark lighting his eyes.

"I work just down the street at a television studio, I come here sometimes on my lunch break...I'm not sure why", you explain, feeling a bit embarrassed at him finding you here. "What are you doing here?" You add.

"Ah, well, we're showing a screening of the movie here tonight", he says gesturing to the old building across the street. "Just fifteen minutes or so. I guess they're making it into a bit of a party. A few of us thought we'd come check it out first, get a few photos."

"Oh, that sounds fun", you say, wondering what the odds are that he would be here the same time you are.

As if reading your thoughts, he adds, "I can't believe you're here. I mean I figured you were here in L.A. of course, but never in a million years did I expect to see you here, today."

"I know, crazy right?" You say nervously. Why are you so nervous?

"I was here in L.A. last month, for awards season...I thought about calling, but I decided not to", he says looking at the ground, and you swallow down a lump. You wish now that he had.

"Oh...", is all you manage to get out. 

"So, how are you? How's your hand?" He asks, gesturing down to it.

You want to say that you still feel an emptiness inside since you left him, you want to say that you dream about him weekly and wake up in a panic, you want to say that you think about him daily, hourly even. But in the end you simply say, "I'm fine. Hand is good. Pretty much back to normal, just a little tingly from time to time."

"That's good, and your job? Are you still working as a make-up artist?" He asks. You hate that you've been reduced to small talk.

"Yes, it's good. Not quite as fast-paced as Rocketman, but good", you say with a smile.

"Great, I'd love to hear about it sometime." His words give you hope that maybe this won't be your only conversation for the foreseeable future. There is an awkward silence between you as you both look at each other, than anywhere but each other. "Well, I guess I better get back", he finally says, slipping his glasses back on and you are disappointed that your chance encounter with him is already ending. He looks toward the Troubadour, then back to you with cautious excitement on his face. "Hey, would you want to... come tonight?" He asks, gesturing to the club.

"W-what?" You exclaim in surprise. You definitely weren't expecting that.

"You should come... to the screening tonight. A few other people you know will be there and it should be fun..."

"Oh, I don't know Taron. That's not really my thing..." The thought of being there with people you were working with before being forced to leave has your pulse accelerating.

"You had a lot to do with this movie too you know, you should be there."

"I did?" You laugh uncomfortably.

"Of course you did, you were the one that made me look like Elton, up until the end anyway", he says glancing away, and your heart sinks. Now you feel more than ever that it wouldn't be appropriate for you to be there.

"I don't know", you repeat.

"Please", he says earnestly. Shit. You always did have trouble saying no to him. 

Sighing, you finally say, "I promise I'll try, ok?" His face lights and it's almost enough for you to give in completely.

"Great! 8:00. I'll put your name on the list", he says with a wink. Damn. "I've got to get back, but hopefully I'll see you later?" He says.

"Mmm hmm", you say in agreement. With one last smile, he turns to head back in the direction he came from.

But before he goes, he turns back to look at you one more time and says, "If I don't see you later, I'm really glad I ran into you today and I hope it's not the last time I see you." You can't be sure, but you think you see a hint of sadness behind his tinted shades, and you don't have a chance to respond before he's walking away from you. After watching him go, you gather your lunch and personal items, and head back to the studio wondering what exactly you just agreed to and more importantly, what are you going to wear...

The rest of the afternoon at work drags by incredibly slow. You've been working on the actress who plays the wife in the television show, a middle-aged woman with fair skin and dark hair. You've been trying several different types of foundation on her to make her pale complexion match her hair better without making her look too cakey, and it's proved to be more difficult that you would've thought. It was a similar situation with Bryce on the set of Rocketman since she was a natural red-head wearing a dark colored wig, but you were not the main make-up artist working with her and don't quite remember what was used. 

You've tried to keep your mind on your work, but thinking back to Rocketman has your mind drifting to Taron once again. Not that it takes much for your mind to drift to Taron. You think back to your unexpected rushed meeting with him outside the Troubadour and almost feel as if the encounter was all in your mind. It felt so surreal seeing him there. You still can't believe that he was actually there and if you didn't know better, you might've just thought he was a mirage. But he was there. He had talked to you. He had even invited you to an event there later this evening to which you had stupidly agreed to try and attend. Why had you said that? There was a reason you left England when you did and hadn't contacted Taron since. You were really proud of that actually, of being somewhat strong, when so many times you could've easily picked up the phone and reached out to him. But you hadn't because you felt it was the right thing to do. The responsible thing to do. And now here you are throwing all that out the window simply because you are apparently still powerless when it comes to Taron. On the other hand, maybe you saw him there today for a reason. Maybe you were meant to see him. You're usually not one to believe in fate, but this was just too much of a coincidence, right? L.A. is a big city and you don't always go to that spot for lunch. Can you really ignore this if it was your destiny to see him, to reconnect with him? Destiny or not, maybe enough time has passed that you can just put it all behind you and start over. Maybe you could even be friends. Maybe.

After your tedious day at the television studio is finally done, you drive home to your apartment in a state of stress and anxiety, wondering if you've made a huge mistake by promising to try and make it tonight. You don't want to let Taron down, but big fancy gatherings of celebrities and the like are definitely not your scene, despite your chosen career path. You prefer to stay behind the scenes as much as possible. You'd much rather meet him in private for coffee or something and just talk to him, the way you used to back in England. But you know that's not an option tonight. He has obligations to the film, and you should feel honored that he would even consider inviting you along. Taking a deep breath, you try your best to ignore your worries and go to your closet instead to try and find something decent to wear. You find a simple black strapless cocktail dress with a flared skirt that you wore to Lisa's twenty first birthday party. You forgot you even had the dress, but holding it out in front of you as you stand before the mirror, you can't help but smile a little. You're not sure what the attire will be like at the screening, but based on what Taron was wearing, if he ends up wearing the same thing, you suppose this will do. You decide to "fancy" it up just a bit with a pair of strappy black stiletto heels that you only wear on very special occasions, meaning once, and hope they aren't too much for the occasion.

You shower, dry and style your hair, and apply some make-up before squeezing into the dress and heels. You stick with the same simple pearl earrings you wore for your weekend trip to Aber, and apply a dab of perfume on your wrists and neck. Looking at yourself in the mirror, you feel like something is missing but you're not sure what it is. Going to your jewelry box, you rummage around it and see the light orange stone set into the dainty chain necklace that Taron gave you all those months ago. You haven't worn it since your flight back home, although you've looked at it many times. Pulling it out and running your fingers over the stone, memories of the getaway with him filling your mind, you decide you might as well wear it tonight. Slipping it around your neck, you fasten it and straighten it against your throat. Perfect.

You decide to call an Uber to take you to the event since you are not sure what the parking situation will be. Then you are left to sit and wait, doing everything you can not to let the anxiety of seeing Taron again take over. Before you have too much time to worry, you see the Uber pull up outside your apartment, so you take one more quick glance in your hall mirror, then make your way downstairs to meet your driver. After instructing him where to go, you wait impatiently to arrive at your destination. You can't help but wonder what Taron's reaction will be to seeing you again. Will he be happy to see you, or will he be too busy at the event to pay much attention to you? He did invite you of course, but what will coming here mean? What will it mean for your future with him? Will it mean anything? As the car rolls to a stop and you look out the window at the glowing Troubadour sign and dazzling lights, you know it's too late to back out now. You try and regain what little composure you have, and after smoothing down the satin fabric of your dress and reluctantly leaving the safety of the vehicle, you make your way to the front door. There is a large man standing there with a clipboard in his hand, and it reminds you of every movie you've ever seen with an impressively intimidating bouncer at the door checking names. You meekly say your name, he looks over the list and then back at you and smiles tightly. You feel your shoulders relax a bit.

"Ah, yes. Mr. Egerton is expecting you", he says in a surprisingly pleasant way, and moves aside so that you can enter the nightclub. You're not exactly sure where you're supposed to go next, but there's not very many options in the small space. You're surprised by how compact the venue actually is and find it hard to imagine Elton playing here all those years ago. There are people everywhere, some dressed very elegantly, some dressed more casually, men and women with cameras and microphones, and an overall buzz of excitement. It's overwhelming to say the least. In fact, you're not sure you've ever seen this many people crammed into such a tiny space before. A waiter approaches you with a tray of champagne flutes which you graciously accept. Sipping at your drink and trying not to let your fear take over, you slowly wade through the throngs of people, scanning the crowd to try and find a familiar face. You think you recognize a few of them, although you're not quite sure. It just now occurs to you that Olivia could be here and you desperately hope she isn't. Surely Taron would have warned you if she was? Regardless, you don't see her anywhere, or Taron. You see a few people giving interviews with interviewers shoving microphones in their faces and cameras looming over them. It makes you shudder a bit, knowing that this is so not your thing, and you feel more out of place here than ever. You're starting to wonder if you should remain here or try to find a less conspicuous place to stand, when the large mass of people in front of you slowly separates, and then you see him. Taron.

He is about fifteen feet away talking to an interviewer, surrounded by more people, but you can see him as clear as if he were directly in front of you. He looks just as he did this afternoon when you saw him, minus the sunglasses, but still just as beautiful. You can't be sure, but you think he actually looks better than he did back in England, if that's even possible. His face appears more defined, but maybe that's just the short haircut. And the way his tailored clothes fall over his body is nothing short of flawless. You know you are staring stupidly, but you can't seem to peel your gaze away from him. As if feeling your eyes on him, Taron turns in your direction, makes eye contact with you then looks quickly back at the interviewer almost as if he hasn't recognized you. Your heart stops and you suck in your breath. Your legs start to tingle and your body feels shaky. A split second later, he does a double take and whips his head back over to you, locking his eyes with yours. In that moment, the whole room seems to dissolve around you, the noise fades away and all the other people become shapeless masses. You are frozen in time as you wait to see what he will do next. It's like everything is happening in slow motion and you watch as he smiles knowingly at you. You feel your face flush hot and you smile shyly in return. After staring at each other for what seems likes hours, or maybe only seconds, he finally turns back to the interviewer and says something to her. He smiles politely, shakes her hand, then starts to move away from her and turns toward you. You swallow hard and force your body to stay upright as he approaches you. Within seconds, Taron is standing mere inches from you and you have trouble finding your voice to speak. Before you can worry about it any longer, he places his hands on your bare shoulders and leans into you, and you feel the all-too familiar electronic shock go through your body whenever he touches you.

"Hello love, I'm so glad you made it", he says right before he places two soft kisses on either side of your cheeks. He pulls back and drops his hands to his sides, and the sweet smile on his face warms your heart as the lingering effect of his lips on your skin sears into you.

"Thank you, I'm glad too. This is...something", you say motioning at the space around you. He nods his head and it's almost imperceptible, but you notice him do a once over up and down your body, his eyes lingering on the light orange stone at your throat.

"You look...incredible," he states.

"Thank you, you look pretty incredible yourself. Your hair looks really good", you say, eyeing it and feeling foolish for mentioning it. His eyes roll upward, then he smiles down at you.

"Oh yeah. Well, not as sick as the red, receding, shaggy hairdo, but it works", he says with a wink, and your stomach does a somersault.

"Ah yes", you say with a nod. Why do you have no intelligible words right now? At that moment, a woman approaches and puts her hand on Taron's arm, getting his attention. He turns toward her and she says something that you can't quite understand. Something about he's needed somewhere. He nods his head and she steps back. He turns back to you with a look of apprehension.

"I've got to go take some photos...are you sticking around?" He asks hesitantly.

"Absolutely, I'll be here", you say with a reassuring smile, and you notice that your unease at being here has melted away. He stands there in front of you for a moment longer, eyes traveling over your face, before taking your hand and lifting it to his lips. He places a tender kiss to the back of your knuckles and you feel it all the way down to your toes.

"Do you want to...come with me?" He says, lifting his eyes to yours and motioning toward the crowd where you can already see flashes going off. Your eyes travel to that spot and you feel the anxiety return.

"Oh, no. That's ok, I'll be fine. You go and have your moment. I'll be here waiting", you assure him with a smile.

"Ok, I'll be right back", he says as he starts to turn away. Taron then pauses and turns back to you, then places his palm against your forearm. "I really am glad you're here. Promise you won't go anywhere?" He asks, his eyebrows pulling together.

You look up at him earnestly and cover his hand with your own, giving it a little squeeze. "I promise", you whisper.

And this time, you really mean it.


	3. The Car

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Taron find some alone time after the Troubadour party.

The evening is filled with cocktails, socializing and all the things that generally make you feel completely out of your element. After the appropriate amount of photo taking, interviews and excited chatter regarding the movie, everyone is finally quiet to enjoy the short footage shown on the stage of The Troubadour. Just before the scenes begin, Taron takes the stage and gives a short speech, including reading a letter from Dexter, the film's director. He is joined onstage with his fellow co-stars, Bryce and Jamie, and you are little disappointed that Richard is not here, especially since he's been such a calming influence on you lately. You'll have to remember to text him later.

Seeing Taron's reaction to watching the clips for the first time on screen is thrilling, and it makes the uncomfortable feeling in your gut go away, for a little while anyway. You have to admit that you feel quite proud of him, and you're happy you get to share this moment with him, even in some small way. After the preview is over, it's more schmoozing and drinking with the cast, crew and various celebrities. Taron takes you around to some of them to mingle and chat, and you are in awe with how he interacts with everyone. So smooth and charming and at ease with everyone he talks to, whether he knows them or not. It's actually quite fascinating to watch, and you are more than a little envious of his out-going personality. After awhile, you leave him to circulate by himself, not wanting to tie him down to you and also just because you need a bit of a reprieve. You find yourself wandering outside to take in the night air and catch your breath. It's quiet out here which is extremely welcoming after being in the noisy cramped venue for so long. It still gets cold here in L.A. in the mornings and evenings, and while the cool air feels good on your bare shoulders and arms, after a few moments it begins to get quite chilly. You wrap your arms around yourself and stare up at the night sky, gazing at the stars that are scattered throughout the inky blackness.

You begin to wonder what is going to happen after tonight as a shiver goes through your body, and you're not sure if it's because of the cool night air or the fear of the unknown after tonight's events. You know that after this, Taron will need to go full force promoting Rocketman and you will return to your life here and your own work. It could be quite some time before you even see him again. Lost in your own thoughts, you jump slightly when you feel a pair of warm hands grasp your shoulders. Taron moves around to stand next to you and you smile up at him, happy that he took the time to come and find you.

"You found me", you say, and notice a tiny puff of warm air escape your lips.

"I did, I missed you", he says with that crooked grin of his. You feel another shiver go through you and it visibly shakes your body. "Oh God, I'm sorry", he says as he removes his sports jacket and slips it gently over your shoulders. You pull it by the lapels closer around your body. His warmth still lingers within the satiny fabric, and you discreetly inhale his musky scent that wafts up from the collar.

"Thank you", you say, sighing with the relief his jacket provides.

"Of course", he replies. "What are you doing out here all by yourself?"

"Just thinking", you reply a bit coyly.

"Hmm, good things I hope?" He says with a little grin.

"Mostly", you say with a smile to match his.

"Ok... Well, do you want to go back in and think inside? It's a little chilly..."

"No thanks, I'm good out here for awhile", you reply with a smile. "You're welcome to go back though, don't stay out here on my account," you say as you start to remove his jacket to give back to him, but he puts his hand out to stop you.

"No I'm fine. I'm kind of over all that noise now anyway," he says.

"Ok", you reply, not knowing what else to say. Taron looks around and rubs his hands together, then cups them to his mouth and blows into them.

"It is cold out here though, I have a car here somewhere", he says motioning to all the vehicles lining the street. "Want to go sit?" He asks, turning toward you.

"Sure", you answer, thinking that a quiet warm vehicle sounds pretty good right now. Placing his hand against your back, he guides you down the side of the street as you pass the many sleek black cars parked there. After passing four or five cars, he finally stops.

"Here it is...I think", he says laughing slightly. He tries the backseat door handle and it opens. "Aha!" He exclaims proudly, and you can't help but giggle at him.

"Where's your driver?" You ask, looking around as if you'll spot him somewhere.

"I'm not sure honestly, my assistant usually calls him when I'm ready to go", he explains, and you have to remind yourself that Taron is indeed a celebrity, even though you might not ever think of him in that way.

Taron holds the door open for you and you slide in all the way across the bench seat, making room for him to follow behind you. You nervously smooth down the fabric of your dress for the hundredth time tonight and tug the strapless bodice up as he settles in beside you and glances over in your direction. Being alone like this in the intimate closeness of the vehicle makes your pulse quicken and has you feeling anxious, but you're not really sure why. It's absurd really, as much as you've been through together, and now you're acting like a couple of shy teenagers. You smile meekly over at him and he smiles back, then he looks straight ahead and you do the same. After a few long seconds pass, you see movement out of the corner of your eye so you look back at him to see him running his hands loosely through his short hair. You try not to stare but he's just so damn mesmerizing, so you try and do it as inconspicuously as possible out of your side vision. He smooths one side back, then tugs gently at the strands that stick up from his scalp, before looking back over at you. You snap your head away quickly, but you're sure he's caught you gaping at him so you look back at him sheepishly.

"Sorry, my hair still feels so weird growing back in like this", he explains and you smile awkwardly. "I have trouble not touching it to see if it's still there", he says with a nervous grin.

"No worries", you reply, glancing up at the perfection that he is. "May I?" You ask tentatively, feeling the need to touch him and reaching toward his head.

He pauses just a moment before answering. "Of course", he croaks. You touch him lightly on the crown of his head, reveling in the sensation of the soft hairs against your fingertips. You let your hands wander over his scalp to the tops of his ears, then to the back of his head, exploring. You see the pull of his throat as he swallows and closes his eyes briefly as you lower your hands and place them nervously in your lap.

"It's grown in really well, and fast", you finally say.

"Yeah, I have to admit, I was a little worried that it wouldn't", he says. "Not to sound vain, but I didn't want to be a twenty nine year old with a receding hairline."

"Taron, you would look good with pink hair and wearing a paper sack. Trust me, it looks really good." He smiles then lowers his eyes.

"Thank you." More awkward silence. "I'm really happy you came tonight. Did you have fun?" He asks, apparently changing the subject.

"I did, yes. It was...interesting but fun."

"Did you like the movie, or at least what you were able to see of it?" He asks, looking concerned again and searching your eyes.

"Yes, absolutely. I can't wait to see the finished project. It's going to be amazing", you assure him.

"I hope so, we poured everything into it and it's all we've got", he says sighing. "But more importantly, I'm just really glad you were there", he says once again. His eyes then land on the stone at your neck and you suddenly feel a bit self-conscience. "You kept it I see", he says nodding toward the necklace, and you involuntarily place your fingertips against it.

"Of course I kept it. I said I would", you answer as you straighten it slightly then drop your hand. He then looks down at his hands in his lap. "Taron? You ok?" You ask, trying to find his eyes.

"Yeah, but I think I should tell you something...", he says quietly. The way he says it makes your heart still.

"Ok...", you say, waiting.

"I...well, I..", he stops and lets out a heavy sigh. "I just really missed you", he says in almost a whisper. You let out the breath you were holding.

"I missed you too Taron", you say as you cover his hand with yours. But he pulls his hand away which shocks you a bit. You are a little hurt, but you know you don't really have the right to be since you were the one who left. He sighs again and you wonder what he's thinking.

"It was really hard when you left," he admits, and it's like a knife through your heart, knowing that you caused him pain.

"I know, I'm sorry", you whisper, and now you're the one that can't look him in the eyes.

"Those first few weeks...it's like I was...drowning", he says and your head snaps back up to him.

"What?" You ask, hanging on his every word.

"It was like I was drowning in grief", he explains. "Like I couldn't keep my head above water. It was all I could do just to breathe."

The DREAM. Oh God, the dream you've been having over and over since you left him...

"I'm so sorry Taron", you repeat. "I'm so sorry I hurt you. I really just thought it was for the best, at the time." Your words sound like feeble excuses now and it makes you shudder. You turn away from him, ashamed of yourself. You could have easily avoided all this torment for you both if you had just stuck it out with him through the end of the filming. But in true Taron fashion, he lets you off the hook.

"You don't have to apologize. I know you didn't mean to hurt me, just like I didn't mean to hurt you when I told Lizzie about your hand", he says glancing down at it in your lap and you nod your head slowly. I do understand why you left", he continues as he exhales. "You felt like you needed to go home and I had to let you go." You nod again, not knowing what to say. "Did you ever...did you ever think about...calling me?" He asks hesitantly.

"Every day", you whisper and his eyes glisten just a bit.

"I really wish you had", he whispers back, and the pain in his eyes is almost too much.

"Me too", you answer simply. Because right now, with him sitting here so close, the hurt on his face all too evident, you have no rational reason for your five months of silence.

"But you never left me", he adds, and you feel the tears prick at your eyes. "You were always right here", he says, placing his hand over his heart. "I know that's dumb..." He looks at you with sad eyes and you are overwhelmed with the love you still feel for him. You hesitate just a moment as you gaze into his eyes, then reach out and taking his hand in yours, place it over your own heart and hold it there.

"Not dumb", you whisper. He frames the stone at your neck with his fingers, then traces it gently while letting his hand graze your collarbone as you lower your hand. Your breathing immediately intensifies at his touch and his hand rises with the increased movement of your chest. The tip of his thumb dips just under the neckline of your dress and skims the sensitive skin underneath. Your lips part as you watch him intently, his eyes going from sadness to heat in a matter of seconds. He looks from his hand to your eyes, then back down to his hand caressing you. He looks back at you again and his eyebrows pull together in a look of conflict for a brief moment, almost as if asking you a question with his eyes. You nod your head just slightly, your eyes burning into his, and he lingers there a moment longer before leaning forward to brush his lips against your skin where his fingers are. Your eyes flutter closed as the familiar sensation of his hot mouth on your flesh spreads warmth through your body. Your hand goes instinctively to his head to hold him in place as he leaves a slow hot trail of kisses from your collarbone up to your neck and throat. He moves closer to you, holding you in place by wrapping his arm around your waist. He leans you back against the corner of the backseat as his lips finally reach yours, then pausing only a second as he looks into your eyes, crashes his mouth onto yours eliciting a deep groan from the back of his throat.

As soon as Taron's lips touch yours, it's like no time has passed. Like you're picking up right where you left off. All the desire, love, passion and heat come flooding back with a force so strong it overtakes you instantly. You welcome his kiss eagerly, allowing him full access with his tongue and lips. The desire flooding your body is overwhelmingly fast and you feel a desperate need to have him completely, right this minute. His jacket falls from your shoulders as you lean forward to press your palms against the thin material of his shirt. Feeling his muscles flex and contract under your hands has you quickly becoming impatient as they slide down over his chest and stomach, all while kissing him feverishly. Your hands move to the hem of his shirt, pulling it out of his pants before hastily unbuttoning them and lowering the zipper. Feeling bold, you shove your hand down the front of his pants to grasp him firmly over his underwear, and he pulls his mouth away from yours, gasping with surprise. You massage him aggressively as he grows hard beneath your fingers and his breathing becomes labored. With fire in his eyes, Taron takes your cue by pushing up your skirt, hooks his fingers on either side of your underwear, and pulls them swiftly down your legs. You only have a moment to feel shocked because he is lowering his body over yours, laying you almost completely horizontal against the seat. You remove your hand from his pants and force his boxers down over his hips, releasing him fully. He is ready for you and you've never been more ready for him than you are at this moment. Poising himself between your legs, he hooks his arm under your knee and raises your leg. Taron looks into your eyes for just a brief second before plunging deep inside you, filling you to the core with a pleasure that only he can provide. You gasp out loud with the staggering impact, and grasp onto his shoulders to steady yourself against his increasing thrusts.

"Oh my God...I...missed...you...so...fucking...much", Taron says between pants, and you try to say something back but he is literally knocking the breath out of you. Your breathing is erratic and you brace yourself against him as he slams into you repeatedly. You don't think you've ever experienced anything like this, especially not with Taron. He's always been so gentle and soft with you, but now he's almost out of control with his need for you, and you absolutely love it. You urge him on by digging your heels into his backside, hoping you aren't hurting him with your stilettos. He hikes your leg up even further, hitting a spot that nearly sends you over the edge, but not yet.

"Taronnn", you finally manage to moan out and he takes it as a sign to pump even harder. You are now panting and moaning embarrassingly loud and the sounds coming from him are truly intoxicating. Your vision blurs and all you know is the smell, touch and sounds of the delicious man hovering over you. He tries to kiss you but he's pounding into you so hard that your head is literally bouncing off the side of the car. His movements are hurried and hectic, and you now realize that the time apart has affected him just as much as it has you. You take everything he has to give greedily and without abandon. It's almost more than you can bare, and not nearly enough at the same time. You grip his shoulders tightly, afraid that he will disappear before your eyes like he did in the dream. Before you can put much more thought into that, Taron buries his face into your neck, muffling his cry as he finally releases into you, his teeth scraping against your throat. Hearing him come undone causes your release to follow immediately after and you claw at his back as you ride out the repeated waves of ecstasy. As you reach your final climax, the tears that you've been holding in for months release along with it. You cling to him as you try and hide the fact that you are now sobbing into his shoulder. He is still breathing heavily into your neck as he comes down from his high, and his back is rising and falling rapidly under your hands. He unhooks his arm from your knee and you lower your leg, then he finally rises up to meet your eyes and immediately frowns when he sees your face.

"What's wrong?" He breathes out with a look of terror in his eyes. His eyebrows scrunch together as he wipes the tears from your face with his thumbs, but you still can't speak. "Oh God, I'm so sorry. I was too rough with you. I..."

You cut him off quickly. "No, it's not that Taron. It's just that...", you say through sniffles. You can't seem to find the right words.

"What? Please tell me so I can make it better", he pleads.

"I just missed you...so much. I didn't think I was ever going to see you again. I'm sorry..." You're not even sure what you're apologizing for. The fact that you are bawling after what just happened, or the fact that you left him all those months ago, hurt and alone.

His face finally relaxes and the corner of his mouth turns up a little. "Baby it's ok. I'm here now. And I'm not going anywhere", he says as he gently caresses your face. You relax at his words but still feel guilty and sad that you wasted so much time. You also know that he can't really keep that promise, anymore than you could keep yours.

But it'll do for now.


	4. The Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron invites you to a party.

Now that the moment is over, you feel a bit shocked, not to mention surprised at what just happened. This was certainly not your intention when you showed up here earlier this evening, although you have to admit, it was a rather pleasant turn of events. You imagine Taron must feel the same because he smiles sheepishly at you, then backs away as he adjusts himself and repositions his clothes. You pull your skirt down and wonder where your panties might have ended up.

"Are you...ready to leave?" Taron asks, clearing his throat. At that moment, he reaches down and collects your underwear where they landed on the floorboard, and quickly hands them over to you without meeting your eyes.

"Yes, umm. I took an Uber here but...", you're not sure how to finish the sentence.

"I don't want to leave you yet", Taron says looking over you, pleading with his eyes and your heart melts.

"Me neither, we could...go to your hotel?" You suggest presumptuously and feel relieved when his eyes light up.

"Actually, would it be ok if we went to your place instead? Just in case the paps are lurking..."

"Paps?" You ask, confused.

"Paparazzi, they probably won't be there, but just in case...", he explains.

"Oh, I keep forgetting you're famous", you say with a sideways grin.

"I wouldn't say famous, but they've definitely been known to catch me off guard a time or two."

"No problem", you say, laughing off your slight nervousness at the thought. "My place isn't far from here."

"Great, I'll just call my driver", he says, fishing out his phone and punching in the numbers. You use his momentary distraction to discreetly pull your underwear back on and smooth down your dress. A few minutes later, the driver appears and you give him the address of your apartment. As the car starts and pulls away from The Troubadour, Taron reaches across the seat and gently takes your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.

Fifteen minutes later, you are pulling up to your compact yet comfortable apartment building nestled amongst the eclectic city of West Hollywood. Taron thanks the driver and the two of you exit and make your way into the building and up the several flights of stairs to your homey studio apartment. Unlocking the door, you suddenly feel a bit self-conscience about your humble abode and you feel the need to apologize to Taron.

"Sorry, it's kind of cramped", you say as you turn on the lights and drop your handbag on a table near the door.

"I wouldn't say cramped", he says smiling reassuringly at you. "Just...cozy." You smile at his kindness. You lead him through the tiny space that makes up your living room, kitchen and bedroom all in one. You end up at the "bedroom section", which consists of just a full size bed and night table, but is sectioned off with a half wall partition. Feeling somewhat shy, even after what just transpired in the car, you sit down slowly on the bed, thankful that you had the foresight to make it this morning. Taron follows your movements and sits down next to you, looking nervously over at you. He clears his throat and then looks down at the floor as he clasps his hands together and speaks to you. "I feel like we need to talk about..."

"No. No more talking for now", you say, cutting him off. His head snaps back to you in surprise but he doesn't say anything more. "Right now, I just want you to hold me and make love to me", you say, surprised by your own words coming out of your mouth. And then, hoping he doesn't think you too brazen you add, "Is that ok?" At this his face relaxes and he smiles, and you let out an exhale.

"Of course it is", he whispers. Then, taking your face gently in his hands, he pulls you to him and kisses you softly on the lips. He then moves his mouth up to your nose and places a tender kiss on the tip of it before moving to your cheeks, kissing each in turn. Your eyes flutter closed as your body relaxes into his grasp, and you feel a sigh escape your lips. Your hands instinctively go around his neck, pulling him closer to you. Taron's hands go to your back and he scoots forward to close the distance between your bodies. His mouth is back on yours, but instead of the intense frenzy of kisses like back in the car; his lips are slow, deliberate and tantalizing. It's almost too slow, and you have to stop yourself from hurrying him along. His hands find the zipper at your back and slowly tug it down. You take this as a cue that it's now acceptable for you to relieve him of his shirt, so your hands go to the bottom of it and gently pull it over his head. As his hands return to your body and your breathing intensifies, you finally can't take it anymore and deepen the kiss by gently probing his tongue with yours. He groans into your mouth and you can't help but feel a satisfaction that you still have this effect on him, even after all this time. The two of you move in tandem to lay across the bed, still holding onto one another as you free yourselves from the rest of your clothing. All the while, Taron is feathering your face, neck and chest with delicate kisses that send your sensations into overdrive. This man, who you thought you would never see again, who makes you feel things you've never and probably will never feel again with anyone; this man that changed your whole world is finally back in your arms, and it feels like he never left. Then Taron makes love to you again; this time with a tenderness and sweetness that you never knew was possible, and it would be enough to make you cry if you weren't so incredibly happy.

The next morning, you wake to find yourself still curled up in Taron's arms. You can't remember that last time you slept so peacefully and without moving. Your dreams remained undisturbed with the horrid nightmare as well, and you wonder if maybe it's gone forever now. Maybe with Taron back in your life, do you dare hope that it just might be? You shift your position slightly to stretch your limbs which causes him to stir. He inhales deeply then opens his eyes just a bit to peer over at you.

"Good morning", you say softly. He tightens his grip on you and smiles.

"Good morning love, sleep well?"

"Mmmm hmmm. A little too well, I think I may be late for work", you say, suddenly realizing that the sun beaming through your tiny bedroom window appears to be higher in the sky than usual.

"Oh, do you need to go?" He asks, looking worried and loosening his hold.

"Nah, there's nothing too pressing on the schedule today. I have a few minutes", you insist as you snuggle into him a little closer. He sighs into you as his warm arms wrap around your shoulders. After a few minutes of silence, with only the sound of his steady breathing above you, he speaks again.

"So what are your plans for today then, besides work?"

"Hmm, well let's see. There's work, then coming home from work... I guess that's about it", you say, realizing that your lack of a social life is it a bit embarrassing. It is however a Tuesday night so not really that strange. "What about you?" You ask as you look up into his tired lovely eyes.

"I've got some meetings with my publicist and a phone interview I think. But tonight one of my mates that lives here is having a birthday party. Would you...want to come?" He asks, and you can hear the hesitation in his voice. Your heart rate picks up just a bit at the thought of two nights in a row of socializing with the Hollywood Elite.

"Oh, well, I don't know. I wouldn't really know anyone and I don't want to keep you from your friends", you say, hoping that this answer will be enough.

"You wouldn't be keeping me from my friends but I understand if it would make you feel uncomfortable. I just want to see you again before I leave tomorrow...I don't have to go..." Your heart sinks at the thought of him leaving tomorrow?? You weren't exactly prepared for the possibility of being separated from him again so soon.

"Oh, I didn't know you were leaving tomorrow. I don't want you to miss out on being with your friends for me. How long will the party last? Maybe you could come over after?"

"I'm not sure but yeah maybe. Tell you what, I'll just text you the address and details and if you feel like coming you can, if not, that's fine too. Sound good?" He says as he caresses the top of your head.

"Sounds perfect. Thanks for understanding my neuroses", you say in attempt to play it off. You lift your head up and rest your chin on his chest so that you can see his expression clearly. He gives a little snort and touches the tip of your nose with his finger.

"Your neuroses are one of the reasons I love you", he says matter-of-factly. Like hearing those words on his lips directed at you after so long doesn't cause your heart to do a back-flip in your chest.

"I love you too, you know that right?" You ask, gazing up at him. 

"I do", he responds, smiling sweetly at you and you smile in return.

"That's good", you say with a heavy sigh, "but if I don't get out of this bed with you, I may not have a job anymore", you say as you start to move away. But he grabs onto your shoulders and holds you in place.

"That's ok, you can come work for me", he says with one of his wicked little winks.

"Oh? And what would I be doing exactly?" At this he waggles his eyebrows in a suggestive way so you take your pillow and whack him playfully with it. He then grabs your wrists and flips you onto your back, pinning you in place under his weight. He leans in to brush his lips against your skin as you willingly give in to his assault. In the end, you are much later to work than you thought you'd be, but it was worth every minute.

You find it difficult to concentrate at work. The day drags on with endless make-up and lighting tests, but you can't seem to draw your attention away from the events of the last twenty four hours. So much has happened in a small amount of time and yet, your time with Taron is already ending. He texted you about an hour after he left your apartment with the instructions for the party tonight. You had texted him back explaining that with being late to work, you would probably need to stay longer than usual to finish up some things for the next day, and that going to the party wouldn't work out. He was disappointed but understanding. You reminded him that he was welcome to stop over afterward, even if it was late, and he promised to try. You had even given him your spare key this morning just in case you were asleep by the time he got there. Being woken up by Taron wouldn't be the worst thing. You are just sitting down to scarf down a late lunch when you receive another text from him.

Taron: Hey, no pressure, but I have something for you and would love to be able to give it to you before I leave. Not sure I can make it over after the party since my flight is so early, but I hope to give it to you soon.

You: Ok... can you tell me what it is?

Taron: I'd rather explain in person. (wink face)

You: Ok, well I guess we'll just see what happens. (smiley face)

Taron: (thumbs up)

The text exchange is very cryptic and you don't like the fact that he isn't committing to seeing you tonight, although you've done no better. He doesn't text or call for the rest of the afternoon and you assume that he's accepted the fact that you aren't going to the party. As you drive back home that evening, you receive one final text from Taron.

Taron: I guess you probably aren't going to make it tonight since it's already started and you're not here, lol. I don't think I'll be able to make it over later because my flight just got moved up to the red-eye, but I will call you on my way to the airport. I miss you already...

Your heart sinks, again, and your chest tightens with the familiar pang of imagining life without Taron. You know he'll be back here eventually for some sort of event, but not knowing exactly when you'll see him again is almost too much to bear. Is your comfort level of being in a socially awkward situation really worth not seeing him one last time for who knows how long? Or would it be better to just leave things as they were, as you left them when he walked out of your apartment this morning? You mull that over for the rest of the drive back and by the time you've pulled into the covered parking lot of your apartment building, you've made the decision to just fuck your anxiety, get your ass in gear and go to the party. Who cares if it's awkward, it'll be worth it to see him one more time. You're determined not to make the same mistake you made in England. Before you can change your mind, you hastily pull out a long sleeve green silk dress from your closet, freshen up your make-up and brush out your hair. Thirty minutes later you are back in the car and on your way to the address Taron gave you. You don't even bother to text or call him; something about surprising him feels quite exhilarating, even though it's giving you heart palpitations at the same time.

You pull up to the house listed under the address in your map and are surprised to find that it's not an overwhelmingly large mansion like you assumed it would be. Instead it's a modest two story home with white painted stucco and dark accents. You feel yourself relax slightly at the thought that maybe this won't be the elaborate Hollywood type party you envisioned in your mind. You park your car a little way down the road since the street is already lined with cars, and then make your way to the front door. Finding it already open and welcoming, you step inside to find pleasant sounding music and a handful of people milling about. You feel a little odd just walking into someone's home, but no one seems alarmed by your presence. You scan faces looking for Taron's as you walk further inside the house, and just as you are about to turn a corner to enter the next room, you are met with a familiar pair of baby blue eyes.

"Richard!" You exclaim, upon realizing who the dark and handsome figure is in front of you. He looks shocked to see you at first, but then gives you a tight smile.

"Well hi, what are you doing here?" He asks with what almost sounds like, disappointment? You must just be misinterpreting his tone. It's been awhile since you've seen him.

"Taron invited me...what are you doing here?" You ask, looking at him questioningly.

"He told me you weren't coming", he says matter-of-factly, and it doesn't go unnoticed that he didn't answer your question.

"I changed my mind. Decided to surprise him, is that ok?" You say condescendingly, matching his tone. He must finally realize that he's being weirdly harsh because he relaxes his features and smiles politely at you.

"Yes, of course it is. I was just surprised to see you myself", he explains, and it's at this moment that you realize he's blocking your path in the doorway to the room.

"Ok...well, have you seen Taron?" You ask, peering around his shoulder to get a better view.

"Umm, yeah he's around here somewhere", he says apprehensively. "Why don't we...go get you a drink?"

"Maybe in a minute, I really want to find him...", you say, your voice trailing off as you make to move around him. At this, he puts his hand gently but firmly on your shoulder, almost as if he's trying to stop you. You look back up into his icy blues. "Richard, what the f-" You don't finish your sentence because at that moment, you look over his shoulder again to see Taron's side profile in the next room, engrossed in conversation with someone to his right. There is a cluster of people around and in front of him so it's difficult to see. "There he is, will you excuse me please?" You ask as politely as possible. You're not sure what his problem is at the moment, but you're too focused on Taron now to find out. Richard sighs and then moves aside, but as you make your way through the room, you notice that he is quick to follow behind you. You put on your best smile as you approach Taron confidently and excitedly awaiting his reaction to seeing you.

The reaction you get however is not what you had expected. When you are a mere few feet from him, it's like he senses you there and turns toward you. When his eyes find yours, the look there makes the blood in your veins go cold. It's a look of absolute shock and terror and you can't begin to imagine why he'd be looking at you that way. Is it that surprising that you would change your mind? He continues to gape at you as your eyes slide over to the person on his right that he was conversing with. She's tall and lean, as tall as Taron if not taller, with flawless olive skin, gorgeous green hazel eyes and dirty blond hair that falls in silky waves around her bare shoulders. You swallow as you appraise her and mentally remind yourself just how stunning these Hollywood people really are. Following his gaze, she smiles sweetly at you then glances back to Taron, raising her manicured eyebrows just a bit. He looks back at her then, and you realize that no one has spoken since you walked up to them. You decide to be the one to break the uncomfortable silence.

"Hello Taron", you say, smiling nervously.

"Umm, hi. You made it", he says emotionless. This is definitely not the reaction you were hoping for or even imagined it would be. You've never seen him so tense. He hasn't even acknowledged Richard who is now standing by your side. You look back at the woman, waiting awkwardly for someone else to speak. His eyes follow yours to her and a sudden feeling of dread washes over you. The woman puts her hand lightly on his arm which causes your cheeks to heat as your eyes dart from her hand to his face then hers. He clears his throat slightly before turning back to you and croaks out your name as he introduces you to her, adding, "We worked on Rocketman together." His simplified description of your relationship takes you aback a little, but you shrug it off knowing that your relationship has yet to be defined. He says your name again a little more forced this time which causes your gaze to shift back to him. He is speaking directly to you now as he says the next words painfully slow, as if they're being spoken in slow motion. "This is Ashley", he says motioning to the striking woman at his side who is now taking his hand in hers. "My girlfriend."


	5. The Stone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron attempts to explain himself.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

All of the air is sucked out of the room and you find it difficult to breath. Your body feels numb and your heart is threatening to pound right out of your chest. The words are still hanging heavy in the air like a storm cloud waiting to dump.

"This is Ashley...my girlfriend..."

You are vaguely aware of Richard's hand against your back and you're grateful that he's there to steady you as you can't even feel your extremities. You couldn't have heard him right. Right? Girlfriend... Taron has a...girlfriend? Since when? How is this even possible? He would have told you, right? And he definitely wouldn't have had sex with you if he was in a relationship with someone else. Right? You will yourself to look into Taron's eyes, waiting for him to amend his statement, or explain that she's a just a friend. But an explanation doesn't come and all you see in his eyes is pain and sorrow, mixed with... what? Guilt. His expression must match your own by the way he's gaping at you, although you can't be sure of anything at this point. You see Ashley reach her hand out to take yours and realize that only a couple of seconds have gone by since Taron introduced you to her, even though it feels like hours.

"It's very nice to meet you", she says genuinely in a sweet little British accent. She's not only beautiful, but charming and kind as well. The reality of this is starting to sink in all too horribly.

"It's...nice to meet you too", you squeak, as you robotically stretch your hand out to meet hers and pray that it isn't shaking too uncontrollably. You look down and surprisingly see that it's steady. Thank God for small miracles. After shaking her small soft hand briefly, you pull away and drop your hand to your side, then look helplessly over at Richard. He senses your need and finally speaks up.

"Well, I think I need a drink", he exclaims looking at the two them briefly before turning his gaze to you. "You fancy one?" You simply nod your head, take one last look at Taron and Ashley, then let Richard guide you away from them as you hear Taron mumble something that sounds like "bye" as you leave. As soon as your back is to them, you suddenly find the ability to move again, and start to walk faster than Richard, needing to escape this nightmare as quickly as possible. The house now seems packed with people and you are weaving in and around them so quickly that you can't help bumping into them. Muttering your apologies as you go, with Richard trailing behind you, he finally catches up to you just as you reach the front door. "Whoa, hold on", he says stopping you with his hand on your arm. "Where do you think you're going?" You look up at him in a daze, his features beginning to blur through your watery eyes.

"I'm leaving, what do you think?" You practically spit at him as you fish your keys out of your purse.

"I don't think so, you're too upset to drive love", he says imploringly into your eyes. Does he even have a clue as to what's going on?

"Richard, I swear to God, let me go. I have to get out of here", you say, removing his hand from your arm. Richard's eyes sweep the area around you, then focusing on a door off the main hallway, takes your hand and pulls you toward it. For some reason you don't fight him as he opens the door and ushers you through it, closing it quickly behind him. It seems to be a guest bedroom; with a small, nicely made up bed, a night table and a petite desk and chair set against one wall. You walk to it and grip your hands against the back of the chair, needing something to hold onto so you don't collapse.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

"Are you ok?" You hear him ask behind you, but you don't answer. You need a moment to collect yourself, if that's even possible. You feel like you're in one of your nightmares, although it's so much worse than any nightmare you've ever had. In fact, compared to this moment, the dream about you and Taron on the beach would be more than welcome. You are desperately trying to process what just happened, even though you have no idea where or even how to start. You wrack your brain trying to remember if there was something he said, something he did that would suggest he had a girlfriend, but you come up with nothing. When you feel that your heart rate has slowed enough for you to speak cohesively, you clear your throat before addressing Richard with one question without turning to face him.

"Did you know?" No answer. You turn around slowly to find him sitting on the edge of the bed with his elbows propped on his knees, his fingers laced together, head down. "Richard", you say firmly and his head slowly raises to meet your eyes. "Did. You. Know."

He sighs before whispering, "Yes." You close your eyes against the supposed betrayal of your friendship.

"When?" You ask, not sure if you're asking when he knew or when Taron got a girlfriend. You're not sure it even matters.

"A couple months after Rocketman wrapped", he answers. You swallow down a lump, feeling the betrayal full force, from both Taron and Richard.

"You knew this whole time and didn't tell me? Why?" You whisper, doing everything in your power to hold in the tears.

"It wasn't my place to tell. And you never asked about him so I thought maybe...you were over him. But when I came into town this morning, he kind of filled me in about what's been going on. I'm sorry." You feel your face flush at the thought of Taron sharing the details of your private escapades with Richard, although you don't really know to what extent he shared. Richard pulls you out of your thoughts as he continues. "If I'd known you were coming I would've called you to warn you." At this point, you can't figure out if he would've been trying to protect you or Taron.

"God Richard, what am I going to do? This is beyond fucked up..." You say, feeling the panic rise again. Before he can answer, the door slowly opens and you look up to see Taron standing in the doorway with a look of distress on his face. His eyebrows are pulled together and his body his rigid. He closes the door quietly behind him, then sweeps his gaze over to Richard, then to you. Richard looks up at him, then over to you, raising his eyebrows in a silent question. You nod your head at him, then he stands and makes his way to the door. Taking one last look at the both of you, he exits and closes the door behind him. You just stare blankly at Taron, silently gripping the back of the chair behind you that you are still leaning against. It's the only thing keeping you stable at the moment. The look on his face hasn't changed much from moments before when he dropped the bomb on you. He's got his signature furrowed brow that you've seen so many times when he looks at you, as if he's afraid to break you. If he only knew... His eyes hold a look of remorse, but more than anything, he just looks grief-stricken. You know you will not be the one to speak first this time, so you wait as he slowly walks further into the room and stops at the window on the far wall. You watch as he looks out, runs his hands over his face and hair, then drops them to his sides with a resounding exhale as he looks back at you.

"I don't know what to say", he finally says.

"How about the truth?" You say, and mentally chastise yourself for the tremor you hear in your voice. "Who is she?" Might as well start with the basics. He sighs heavily before speaking again.

"Ashley is the girl I told you about, back in England", he states simply. You are confused, to say the least. You don't ever recall him mentioning her. He must see the confusion on your face because he explains further. "Remember my ex I told you about? We broke up a few months before filming Rocketman?" You wait for further clarification but he says nothing. You then start to recall a phone conversation you had with him that seems like a hundred years ago, back when things were simple. The details come trickling into your memory one at a time. The girl he took to Elton John's house. The girl he dated for three years. The girl he broke up with because they didn't have time for each other. The girl who's practically a goddess and somewhere in this very house at this very moment, waiting for him to return to her.

"Yes I remember", you say quietly and he starts to move toward you. The look of warning you shoot him makes him stop in his tracks.

"Well, we ran into each other after the film wrapped and starting talking again. And I guess one thing led to another and well, we're now...back together." You nod your head slowly at his words before dropping your head to stare at your shoes. Did you really expect him to just stay single? Of course, that still doesn't explain his recent actions with you. "But", he continues, "you have to understand that all that happened when I thought you never wanted to see me again." Your head snaps back up to him.

"Never wanted to see you again?" You repeat in contempt. "Did I ever give you any indication that I never wanted to see you again?"

"Well, not speaking to me for five months was a bit of an indication", he retorts but you say nothing. "I thought you were over me. How was I supposed to know you still had feelings for me when you all but fell off the face of the planet?" His voice is starting to rise and you don't like how this somehow got turned onto you.

"Don't put this on me Taron. I think it's pretty obvious that you were over me since you were so quick to get back with your ex", you say, feeling like you are stating the obvious. "What I can't figure out is, why in the world would you invite me here when she was going to be here? Are you intentionally trying to hurt me?" He looks wounded by your words and even after everything, you can't help but feel ashamed for saying something that would cause him pain. Why are you like this?

"You think just because I got back with her that I didn't...don't still care about you? Still love you? I didn't think I was ever going to see you again! I wanted so badly to call but you told me not to. You have no idea what it was like for me", he says quietly now, walking toward you once more until he is right in front of you. He closes his eyes for a moment and relaxes his jaw that has become quite stiff, trying to compose himself. "I swear to you though", he says, his eyes searing into you as he grasps your arms lightly. "I had no idea she was going to be here tonight. She just showed up. I didn't even know she was in town. She was supposed to be filming back in England but I guess she finished early and decided to surprise me." You can't help but notice the irony. "You have to know that I would never have suggested you come tonight if I knew she was going to be here. You know I'm not that sadistic." You do know this, but you just continue to stare at him. He releases you and rubs his forehead with his hand while exhaling. "I was going to take care of everything once I got back home. After last night, I had already decided that I was going to end things with her as soon as I got back to England."

"Oh, well that's convenient", you say huffing. "Was that before or after you fucked me three times?!" His eyes go wide, looking shocked by your words and he takes a tiny step back. "My God Taron, we didn't even use a condom, what were you thinking?" You say a little too loud, burying your face in your hands so he won't see you lose control. You know that you could've easily suggested you use protection and you've been on the pill for years, but you had just assumed that things were just like they were in England. That you were the only one. You feel like such a fool now for being so incredibly naive. It's quiet for a moment, then you feel his hands on yours, trying to pry them away from your face. You shrink away from him and turn your back to him. He then places his hands on your shoulders and turns you back around to face him. He's really pushing his luck here, but for some reason, you don't pull away. 

"I know. It's terrible and I have no excuse, but she and I haven't seen each other in awhile and haven't-" He stops suddenly when he sees the look on your face. You can't even begin to imagine him with her in that way, let alone hear about it. "I've always used a condom with her..."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?" You spit out before pulling yourself from his grip and turning your back on him again. This time you walk to the opposite corner of the room in a feeble attempt to get away from him. A moment later, you hear Taron approach you from behind and feel his hands go to your shoulders once more. Unwittingly, you lean into him a bit, and close your eyes as you feel his breath tickling the back of your neck. Why is it that the one man who has enough power to destroy you also has the same power to comfort you? He leans close to your ear and speaks softly.

"I'm so sorry it had to happen this way, I tried to tell you about her last night...but we got...um, distracted I guess." You do now recall him wanting to tell you something in the car and in your apartment last night, but he never got around to it. You can't help but wonder if it really would've made a difference at the time if he had told you. You'd like to think yes, but you also know you had wanted him so much you couldn't see straight. The memory of him holding you, kissing you, loving you; only hours ago fills you with a soul-crushing sadness, but he continues. "Seeing you yesterday meant more to me than anything has in a long time. It healed something in me that I thought was dead. Something that died when you left." You know his words are meant to be reassuring, but they only serve to injure you further. "It was never ever my intention to hurt you, but you have to know when you left, it nearly killed me. You broke my heart...", he finishes quietly and your eyes snap open. Is he actually blaming you for all of this? He said he understood why you left, he didn't try to stop you. Is he now saying that he got back with his ex because you left him? That he chose to cheat on her with you because of a broken heart? Suddenly, a new emotion flows within you. Anger. Anger at him not fighting for you when you left. Anger at him sleeping with you when he is clearly not available. Anger at the humiliation of having to find out about Ashley this way. And mostly, anger at yourself for being weak and for so easily getting caught up in him once again, only to be hurt, once again. Feeling a newfound courage, you pull yourself from his grasp and spin around quickly to face him.

"Well, now I guess we're even", you say, staring him dead in the eyes without a bit of emotion clouding your words. His eyes go glassy as he just stares back at you. You see the pull of his throat as he swallows, and nods his head almost imperceptibly. The lost look in his eyes is almost too much to bear but you continue to hold his gaze, determined that the weakness ends now. Taron looks at you a moment longer, as if waiting for you to say something else. When he sees that you're not going to, he drops his shoulders and slowly walks away from you. 

Before he reaches the door, he turns around and addresses you once again. "I can't believe I fucked this up again. I'm so sorry." You say nothing, but continue to hold your ground, arms crossed over your chest, staring at him from across the room. You then watch as he inches toward the door, then stops in front of it. He reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls something out, clutching it in his palm. Still not turning, he gently places the small object on the bedside table that's next to the door. Glancing down at it a second longer, he reaches for the doorknob, opens it and leaves the room without turning back.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

You stare at the closed door for what seems like hours and your legs feel leaden when you finally make them move toward it. When you reach the door, you pause and look down at the object still sitting on the bedside table. You're surprised and confused by the small blueish black stone resting there. Picking it up and running your fingers over it, you see that it is in fact some sort of smooth polished rock. You feel like you've seen rocks like this somewhere before, and you search your mind for a memory of where you might have seen something like this. Turning it over in your hands, you notice that it has two small mounds at the top and a pointed tip at the bottom, making it in the unmistakable shape of a heart. Suddenly, an image springs to mind and you have to choke back a sob. You know exactly where you've seen this particular type of stone before. You've seen them in your dreams countless times, and in real life only once. The tears finally flow freely as you realize without a doubt that in your hand sits a stone from none other than the rocky beaches of Aberystwyth.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...


	6. The Coffee Shop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Taron sit down to have a chat.

Two weeks later...

You've thrown yourself into your work lately, doing everything in your power not to think about what happened with Taron two weeks ago for fear of it dragging you down completely. Everything happened and ended so quickly, that you are trying to just pretend it didn't happen at all. Even though, unfortunately, it had.

That night at the party, after tucking the stone reluctantly into your purse and finally leaving the room, you were met with Richard standing just outside the door. You had almost forgotten that he was there. He had insisted on driving you home, stating that you were too emotionally unstable to drive, and having no energy to argue, you had let him. You did however refuse him when he suggested he stay the night and sleep on your couch. You had assured him you would be fine, even though you were anything but. As soon as you closed the door on him, you had rushed to your bed and practically torn the sheets off, sobbing as you did. Throwing them into a pile in the corner of your bedroom, you hastily put on new sheets, not even bothering to fit them properly. Afterward, you had peeled your clothes off and stood under a scalding hot shower, hoping desperately that the steaming water would wash away everything that had happened in the last few days. Of course it hadn't, and you were left once again with a feeling of despair and pain, followed shortly after by numbness.

You honestly can't even believe that any of it was real. All of it was like something out of a book or movie. The fact that you had run into Taron in your own hometown, 5,000 miles away from his hometown, was crazy to begin with. Then, not only had he invited you to an event that you otherwise would never have gone to, but you had actually gotten all dressed up and gone willingly. To make things even worse, you had slept with him after only seeing him for a few hours. Now granted it obviously wasn't the first time, but it was so unlike you to do something so spontaneous. And then finally, you had found out in the most humiliating way possible that Taron has a girlfriend. You still can't quite believe it, even after two weeks. Yes Taron has his faults, he is human after all, but to do something like have sex with you, multiple times at that, while he has a girlfriend seems more out of character for him than anything you've ever done. You just don't understand it, not one bit. He hadn't even really done much to explain his actions, other than saying he thought you were over him and that he was planning on breaking up with her. What does that even matter? It doesn't change the fact that he cheated on his girlfriend with you. Unwittingly making you a cheater as well. Needless to say, you feel terrible.

You have only heard from Taron once since that dreadful night, and it was the same night several hours later around 3 am.

The text simply read: Words can never express how sorry I am.

You hadn't responded.

So you are more than a little surprised to receive another text from him on a random Tuesday morning as you are getting ready for work.

Taron: I know I am the last person you want to talk to right now, but there are things I need to say to you and I'd like to say them in person...I'll be in town in a couple of days. Can I see you?

Your first response is that you have no idea how to respond. So you leave the text unanswered for several hours. What more could he possibly say to you that would make any difference now? The fact remains that he has a girlfriend, which means nothing more can happen between the two of you. Period. You honestly don't see the point of sitting down to talk to him. Of course by lunch time, your curiosity and the effect he has on you have gotten the better of you, so you pull your phone out to read the text again. Admittedly, you are curious to hear what he has to say, but you fear if you see him again you'll just repeat the same mistakes you have in the past. Carefully crafting your words, you hit reply and begin to type.

You: I don't know if that's a good idea. Can you just text whatever it is you have to say?

He begins to type back immediately.

Taron: I know you don't owe me anything, but it really is important for me to say it in person. Please?

Well damn, even over text you can't deny him. You think over your next response carefully.

You: Fine. When will you be here?

A few minutes go by before his next response.

Taron: I can be there Friday mid-morning. Can I come by your apartment?

Definitely not a good idea.

You: No, I break for lunch around noon. There's a coffee shop down the street from the studio. Will that work?

Taron: Yes, absolutely. Just let me know when and where.

You: I'll text you the address and when I'm on my way.

Taron: Perfect, see you then. Thank you.

You don't respond after that.

The next two days go by in a blur and by the time Friday morning rolls around, you are a nervous wreck. Why hadn't you just insisted that he tell you whatever he needed to say over text? Even a phone call would be better than seeing Taron in person so soon after the disastrous outcome of your last meeting. You've even picked up the phone several times in an attempt to tell him you've changed your mind about meeting him, but you never can bring yourself to go through with it. The sad fact is, that you WANT to see him, as pathetic as that is. You've told yourself that it's simply because you need closure, and maybe that is part of it. Maybe if you could just see him one last time, let him say what he needs to say, and then put that part of your life behind you, you can finally begin to move on. That's what you keep telling yourself anyway.

You text Taron with the address first thing, and the morning drags on slowly with not much going on at the studio to distract you from your thoughts. At 11:30 however, the lighting director announces that he is changing the majority of the lighting for the indoor scenes and the make-up needs to be altered accordingly. So, you are back to square one with Hailey, the main actress you've been working on, and are scrambling to get her ready for the new lighting tests. Before you know it, it's 12:45 and you realize you are late for your meeting with Taron. You whip your phone out to quickly text him you are running late and will be there as soon as possible. He replies with a thumbs up and you leave it at that to return to your work. Forty five minutes later, you are finally at a stopping point and everyone breaks for lunch.

The coffee shop is only a few blocks away from the studio so you decide rather than waiting on a taxi or Uber, you'll just walk. The fresh air will hopefully help clear your mind anyway. As you approach the coffee shop, your nerves flare up again and you wonder just what exactly Taron's planning to say to you, and how you will react. Only one way to find out, you think as you take a deep breath and open the door handle. Once inside, you quickly scan the small space with its sparsely laid out tables and chairs, as the fresh aroma of coffee beans fills your nostrils. Toward the back of the cafe, you notice movement and see that Taron has seen you and is now standing up to greet you. You swallow and clear your throat, then walk the short distance to the small round table he is standing behind. He comes around the side of it and leans toward you with his arms outstretched as if to embrace you, but you quickly draw back from him and see the sting pass quickly over his face. He doesn't say anything regarding your dismissal of his greeting, but instead gestures that you sit in the chair across from him, so you do. After you are seated with your hands folded together on top of the table, you watch him as he slowly sinks down into his own chair. He's watching you carefully, as if you might explode at any minute. You just might.

"Sorry I'm late", you mumble. "Busy day at work."

"No worries at all, I'm just glad you made it", he says with a tight smile. "I was just about to grab a coffee, can I get you something?" Your first instinct is to refuse, but on second thought, you figure having something to do other than sit across the table staring at him might be good.

"Sure, I'll take a-"

"Skinny vanilla latte", he interrupts with a slight smile. "I remember." You suppress a smile and your heart hurts as he walks toward the order counter. A few minutes later he returns with two large coffee cups and sets yours down in front of you.

"Thank you", you murmur as you take a tiny sip of the steaming hot liquid.

"Anytime." You inadvertently check the time on your watch and then look at him quickly realizing that might've appeared rude. You're a little worried that you will be needed back at the studio soon. He meets your eyes and clears his throat to speak.

"I really do appreciate you meeting me like this. I know it probably isn't easy." Why does it feel like he's stalling?

"What do you need to say to me Taron?" You ask, maybe a little too abruptly because his face falls into a frown.

"Oh, ok, well... What I wanted to tell you, is that when I saw you outside the Troubadour that day, I never intended for any of this to happen. I was just so incredibly happy to see you." He begins to tear at a paper napkin absent-mindedly as he talks. "Those months we were apart were torture for me. I thought about you every day, but I wasn't sure you wanted to talk to me. But when I saw you, it seemed like you were really happy to see me too. Then you told me you had wanted to call me and that you had missed me, maybe even as much as I had missed you. You were wearing that necklace and all these memories came flooding back and I guess I just lost my mind. I knew I needed to tell you about my g- about Ashley." Your chest tightens at the mention of her name but you try and not show your discomfort as he continues. "But I guess I lost my nerve. And well, what happened in the car was just so...unexpected. Amazing, but unexpected." The memory of his hands on your body causes you to shift slightly in your seat and you mentally scold yourself. "And somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was wrong. I was weak. But that's what happens when I'm around you. I lose all sense of right and wrong because all I want is to be with you. And I don't just mean physically. While that part is great, I really just want to be with YOU, in whatever way I can be. You have always had an effect on me that I've never been able to understand or explain, and I'm not trying to excuse my behavior by any means or put any of this on you." Hearing him say this reminds you of the conversation you had back at the party, and you feel sick for some of the things that were said. "I just want you to know that all the mistakes I've ever made where we were concerned", he says motioning between the two of you, "have been because I can't seem to think straight when it comes to you. And because... I love you." He looks down at his coffee cup and you wonder if he's finished talking.

God, he could be describing the exact way you feel about him. Who's to say you wouldn't have made the same mistake if given the same situation.

"We've both made mistakes Taron. Don't beat yourself up over it", you say, feeling defeated by this whole thing. His head pops back up to look at you.

"Does that mean...you forgive me?" He asks, his eyes filling with hope.

"I wouldn't be sitting here if I couldn't forgive you. But it will take me awhile to get over it I think. I feel like the biggest idiot..." You say, pressing your palm against your forehead.

"Please don't say that. You did nothing wrong", you hear him say as you feel his hand on yours, resting against the table. You immediately pull it away and look up at him. "I'm sorry", he says in shame. "Force of habit." You place your hand in your lap and look away from him, feeling the tears begin to form. "What can I do to make this better?" He asks, always trying to fix everything. You look back over at him stoically.

"Nothing. It is what it is", you say truthfully, because you know there's nothing he can do to change what's happened. Even if he were to break up with her, you're not sure the relationship between you can be repaired now, not with this hanging over your heads. You don't know why the next words come out of your mouth and you instantly regret them. "Are you still with her?" There's a heavy pause before he speaks.

"Yes", he almost whispers and hangs his head again, unable to look in your eyes. There's a moment of silence as you contemplate this.

"Does she know about...what happened?" You ask fearfully.

"No..."

"Is that what this is all about? Making sure I don't say anything that might get back to her?" His head snaps back up again, and the look in his eyes is a mixture of confusion, pain and shock.

"Of course not", he says, raising his voice, and you look around to see if anyone has noticed. Everyone appears to be enjoying their coffee and conversation just as they were before. "Why would you even think that?"

"I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore", you admit.

"I actually haven't seen her since we flew back to England", he says, and the thought of the two of them on an eleven hour flight together makes your stomach churn. "I've been traveling and she's been working."

"What does she do? You said she was in the business too?" Why the hell are you asking about her?

"Yes, she's an actor as well", he explains shortly. You wonder if you might've seen her in anything but you don't bother to ask. Instead you press your lips into a tight line wondering when this conversation will be over. "But like I said, I had already decided I needed to end things with her when I saw you again. But I want to do it in person..."

"No. You don't need to do that, not for me", you say adamantly. He looks surprised but says nothing so you continue. "Do you even care about her?"

"Of course I do. I love her." You thought hearing that she existed was painful, but hearing those words on his lips is downright torture.

"Then why are you doing this to her?" You ask. He sighs heavily then looks pointedly at you.

"It's...complicated with her. We met in school, we were friends first. After we graduated, we began dating and started our careers around the same time..." A little smile tugs at his lips as he looks away briefly, like he's recalling a fond memory and you suddenly realize you can't listen to this.

"I'm sorry", you say waving him off. "I know I asked, but I can't hear this right now. It's too much..." He looks down at the table for moment as he nods his head, then looks back at you.

"I understand. But...you don't want me to break up with her?" He asks, looking confused.

"No."

"Why?" You sigh heavily and gather the courage to say what you need to say. What you came here to say.

"Because, nothing has changed Taron. You still live in England and are too busy for someone like me." He begins to protest but you stop him. "Please let me finish. I still live here and have my own life to get on with. You and I just don't make sense. We might've made some sort of sense back in England, but that time is over. You and Ashley..." Saying her name is like trying to speak around razorblades in your mouth. "You and her make sense. She seems really nice", you add with some difficulty. "We just made a mistake, that's all. Now we need to move on from that and go back to normal." Whatever that is.

"Ok... I don't happen to agree with most of what you just said, but I can respect it. I just can't believe we're going to throw away what could've been really great", he says, resigning.

"We're not throwing anything away. We tried, twice. We just happen to have really bad timing."

"Another time, another place?" He says, and you recall saying something similar to him many months ago.

"Exactly", you agree sadly.

"Can I ask you one thing?" He asks quietly.

"Sure." Why not?

"Can we please try and be friends this time, for real?"

"I don't know if I can...", you say. You honestly don't know how you could possibly talk to him, see him, be with him, without wanting to be WITH him. Not for awhile anyway.

"Please?" He urges. "I don't want to live a life that you're not a part of. Not anymore. I can't..." His words cut deep and you are torn between wanting to make him happy and wanting to maintain your own mental stability.

"I guess...I can try", you say, not willing to commit to a life without him either. Not yet. Maybe not ever.

"That's all I ask", he says, his eyes slowly brightening.

"But please be patient with me, I'm not going to be able to just go back to normal right away", you say, using air quotes around the word "normal".

"I understand and I'll wait as long as it takes", he says smiling. You're not sure what else there is to be said so you shrug your shoulders and take a sip of your coffee. But then, something else pops into your mind.

"Can I ask you something now?" You ask.

"Anything", he answers earnestly.

"The stone that you left at the party that night...what..I mean...where?" You're not sure how to ask what you want to ask, but Taron saves you from trying to figure it out.

"Oh yeah, that. Did you keep it?" He asks without answering your question.

"I did...yes", you say, and he smiles with a look of relief.

"I went back to the beach at Aberystwyth a few weeks after filming wrapped. The one where you and I had the picnic that day?" He asks, as if you could forget.

"Yes, I remember", you confirm.

"Well I was just sitting there on the beach thinking, and I looked down and saw this rock that looked like a heart. So I took it with me and decided that if I ever saw you again, I'd give it to you. So...that's what I did", he states resolutely, and it tugs at your heart.

"I see. Thank you. Thank you for thinking of me." He exhales through his nose and shakes his head slightly, and you're not sure what that means. "Well, I guess I better be getting back to work", you say, and notice the crinkle between his eyes has returned.

"Oh...so soon?" He says with a hint of sorrow.

"Yes, it's been kind of a crazy day", you explain as you rise and gather your coffee cup and purse from the back of the chair. He takes his own cup and rises with you. "Thanks again for the coffee. Are you headed back home soon?" You ask, genuinely curious.

"Yes, I think so. I don't have anything else to do here in L.A." His answer confuses you but you wait until you are outside the coffee shop and onto the sidewalk to ask him about it.

Squinting into the sun and watching as he pulls out his sunglasses and slips them onto his face, you ask, "Oh, so what were you in L.A. for? Didn't you just get here this morning?" You suddenly feel nosy for asking and hope he doesn't mind. The corner of his mouth pulls up a little and you are even more perplexed by his reaction.

"Well, I wasn't actually supposed to be here..."

"Huh?"

"I was in Vegas yesterday for an event. When you told me you would talk to me I decided to fly in. It's only about an hour flight from there so I booked a last minute flight and flew in this morning", he explains but you're still confused.

"So wait...you flew here to L.A. and dealt with LAX, and traffic and everything, just to talk to me?" You find this completely absurd when all of this could've been discussed over the phone. Who does that for a fifteen minute conversation?

"Yes", he answers simply.

"Why?" You ask as you look up at him, the afternoon sun casting an ethereal glow around his beautiful face.

"Because. I would do anything for you."


	7. The Happy Hour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something unexpected happens when you go to happy hour.

The next week is relatively boring and slow, which is problematic because it gives you more time to think. After your meeting with Taron ended outside the coffee shop and he had awkwardly hugged you goodbye, you were left with a feeling of resigned defeat that has stayed with you almost constantly. You haven't cried or let yourself wallow in depression since that night at your apartment after you found out he has a girlfriend, and that surprises you, to say the least. Maybe it all just happened so quickly that you are still in shock. You keep waiting for the agonizing blow to paralyze you, for the anxiety attack that will most definitely overcome you at some point; but all you feel is raw and desensitized. You've been playing the events over and over again in your mind, trying to figure out if there was anything that could've made the outcome different. Maybe if you'd pushed him when he was trying to tell you about her the first time. Maybe if you had been more willing to listen to him that night at the party. Maybe if you'd had the strength to walk away from him from the beginning. But you always come to the same conclusion and you can't see how it could've played out any differently. You are heartbroken of course, but what's happened has happened, and there's nothing that can change that now. Maybe this is what closure feels like.

The only communication you've had with Taron since the day at the coffee shop was a text from him later that evening that said: Thank you for meeting me. I really do hope we can be friends.

You simply responded with a smiling emoji, not knowing how else to respond.

The time after work is the hardest. Most nights you go home, maybe get in a quick run, eat a sandwich, shower, watch a little tv or read, then it's off to bed. You haven't felt much like socializing and you're already an introvert so you haven't made any close friends at work. And since you and Lisa are still on the outs, the only other people you talk to is your family and Richard occasionally. Really, the only social interaction you've had, other than your back to back nights out with Taron that ended in disaster, have been a few nights out for drinks with co-workers. You know it's probably time to change that. So, when on a Friday night, a week after your coffee with Taron, a few of the cast and crew members decide to go to a nearby Mexican restaurant for happy hour and invite you along, you reluctantly agree to go. You figure you might as well, maybe it'll help you get your mind off everything and help you move past it. As if anything really could.

After wrapping everything up for the day, the six of you file into the the little neighborhood dive that is just down the street from the studio, and are quickly seated at a table. The waiter comes by shortly after to take drink orders and a few appetizers, and then everyone falls into easy conversation with each other. Well, everyone but you as you instead scroll mindlessly through your phone. After your drinks arrive and you are casually sipping on your margarita, the set designer, Ethan, turns to you and decides to strike up a conversation.

"Well hey there little make-up girl. What's new with you?" He says as he cocks one eyebrow at you. The gesture reminds you of Taron and you mentally roll your eyes. At him for the absurd nickname, and at yourself for so easily thinking of Taron.

"Little make-up girl?" You repeat. "Are you serious?" You ask in a half-joking way.

"Sorry, I think I'm buzzed already. I don't drink much. No offense intended, I promise." You just smile politely at him, then look back down at your phone as he continues. "I've seen your work, you're really good. Glad to have you on the team", he says sincerely, and you decide to forgive him for his crude greeting. Slipping your phone into your bag, you decide to take pity on him and give him your full attention. 

"Thank you. The set is coming along nicely. Can't wait to see how it turns out."

"Oh thanks. Yeah it's been interesting trying to pull all the pieces together but I think we'll have something good in the end", he says confidently with a broad smile. A ginormous plate of chicken nachos is then placed in front of him and he gestures down at them. "Whoa, I had no idea the portions were so huge. Help me with them?" He says pushing the plate toward you." It's at this moment you realize that you are in fact starving. You haven't been eating much lately.

"Sure, thanks", you agree, and surprisingly help yourself to half of his nachos. The two of you chat pleasantly as you eat, mainly small talk about your jobs before the tv show, where you went to school, where you grew up; nothing out of the ordinary. He's a nice enough guy. He listens as you talk and doesn't talk too much about himself, and he's pleasing to the eye with wavy blonde hair that falls neatly in place around his face, and kind brown eyes. But then he asks the question that you figured was probably coming, and your whole body fills with dread.

"So, are you seeing anyone?" You really hate that question. Why do guys always ask it? You know why, but wouldn't it just be easier to lead with that rather than having to endure the endless chit-chat beforehand?

"No, not really", you admit. Not at all actually.

"Not really?" He repeats. "What does that mean exactly?" He asks with a sly grin.

"Well, no. I'm not seeing anyone. But, I just recently got out of a-" You stop and think, a what? A relationship? No. What was it you had with Taron exactly? An affair? That makes you cringe. Does it really count as an affair if you didn't know you were cheating at the time? But even before the last few weeks, what was it you and Taron had? You had never really defined your relationship. There had never been time. Regardless of what you and Taron actually had together, the fact remains that you are nowhere near ready to start up anything with anyone. It might be a long time before you are. Ethan might have been just your type in another time and place, but not now, maybe not ever. You suddenly remember that he is waiting for an answer so you clear your mind and attempt to clarify what you were saying. "I mean, I was involved with someone before, and it didn't end well so I'm not really ready to jump into dating anytime soon." You hope that is enough of an explanation to satisfy him.

"Ah, got it", he says exhaling. "Not a problem make-up girl", he says smiling. You're not sure you like this new pet name he's given you but, a few margaritas later and you are feeling much less inhibitive and annoyed. It almost seems as if all your problems have vanished and your only focus is the pleasant tingly sensation you feel running through your extremities. Maybe you should come out more often. You've been conversing loudly with Ethan along with your fellow co-workers for the past couple of hours and it finally feels as if you are a normal twenty-something having a fun night out. The restaurant is having a karaoke night on the outdoor patio so someone in your group suggests you all take the party out there. Everyone is feeling pretty fun and free so you all hastily agree. As soon as you get up however, you realize just how much the alcohol has affected you. You have to steady yourself for a moment on the chair before proceeding outside with the rest of the group. You stumble slightly as you follow them outside and the cool breeze that hits you feels good on your flushed face. You all find a couple of tables to spread out amongst as the emcee sets up the mic and karaoke station. She asks for volunteers and immediately a couple of your female co-workers jump up to sing. Their chosen song is Wannabe by the Spice Girls and you know immediately you are in for a crazy night. You laugh along with Ethan and the others as countless eighties and nineties songs are butchered, although some aren't bad. You've switched to water so as not to make yourself too drunk or sick, and are hoping you'll be sober by the time you leave for the night. After about ten songs, Cody, one of the AD's, gets up to take the stage and you settle in to listen to yet another strangled version of some pop hit. He talks to the emcee first and then positions himself behind the mic stand, waiting for the song to begin. It grows somewhat quiet as everyone prepares to listen, and Ethan turns to you to tell you that he's going to sing next. You are focusing on his face and what he's saying, when the familiar notes of a song come floating through the karaoke speaker and Cody begins to sing.

It's a little bit funny, this feeling inside

Your head snaps back to Cody as you watch him sing the words that cause your heart to constrict, and a wave of nausea overcomes you at the same time.

I'm not one of those who can easily hide

You are vaguely aware of Ethan saying your name so you turn back toward him, but all you see is his mouth moving amongst blurry features. No sound seems to be coming out.

I don't have much money, but boy, if I did

Suddenly, your chest begins to ache painfully, and that along with the overwhelming nausea is just too much.

I'd buy a big house where we both could live...

You stand abruptly, creating a loud scraping noise with your chair as you do. A few people turn to see what the commotion is, but then quickly turn their attention back toward the stage. Ethan stands as well and you see his arm come toward yours to steady you. As soon as his skin makes contact with yours, you pull away quickly, causing you to stumble backward. He catches you again and this time, you let him so that you don't fall completely to the floor.

"Whoa, are you ok?" You finally hear the words coming from Ethan, although they sound as if they are coming from very far away.

"Yes...umm...no, I feel sick. I need to go to the bathroom", you mumble.

"Oh, ok. I'll help you, let's go", he says as he starts to guide you back inside the restaurant. You really don't want his help but you know without it, you might not make it. He maneuvers you through the tightly spaced tables and chairs until you arrive at the small one person bathroom at the back. Wrenching the door open and closing and locking it behind you, you press your back against the heavy wood door and close your eyes.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

You know this is not just a case of over-drinking, but rather an impending panic attack. You also know you need to get it together. If you can't even hear a song without having a full-blown anxiety attack, you've got some real issues. Maybe it is time to seek some professional help. But you can't think about that now, you've got to pull yourself together so that Ethan and the rest of your co-workers don't see what a fucked-up mess you are. Putting your hands on your knees and dropping your head, you take a few more deep breaths and try to convince yourself that you are over-reacting. It's just a song after all. Just notes, words and music. That's all. That's all it can be. It can't be about the memory of shaggy hair and alluring green eyes behind dark rimmed glasses. It can't be about words that were sung to you in a moment so sweet that it still haunts you. It can't be about the fact that you wish more than anything you had just told him that day you were falling in love with him. And that you've fallen more in love with him every day since. It can't be about that, not if you're ever going to get better. Finally rising up again, you inhale and exhale deeply one more time, wash your hands and press the damp towel to your face, then open the door to find Ethan there waiting for you.

"How you feeling little make-up girl?" He asks, looking you over.

"I've been better but I'll survive", you answer, looking past him and wondering how quickly you can escape. "I think I need to go home."

"Ok, I can drive you?" He asks, and you remember that you all walked here so that would require you walking back with him and then driving in a car with him. You really just want to be alone.

"That's ok. I'll just call an Uber. I can get my car tomorrow." You hope he accepts this as an answer. You know Taron wouldn't. Lord, why can't you stop thinking about him for one damn second?

"Okie dokie", he replies and you are filled with relief. You walk with him back to the table to collect your purse, say a quick goodbye to your co-workers then head to the parking lot to call and wait for your Uber. Ethan doesn't accompany you outside and you're grateful.

Thirty minutes later you are home and showered, and tucked safely in your bed for what you hope will be a restful and dreamless sleep. You should've known better...

The nightmare is extra terrifying tonight and you blame it on the drinking and panic attack. Just as Taron's head disappears under the waves, a huge lighting bolt hits the water and the ground shakes with a gigantic clap of thunder. You sit bolt upright in bed with tears streaming down your face, your breathing out of control and your chest feeling like it's in a vice grip. The thunder outside your window booms and rattles the windows. The rain is pelting the glass and the lightening lights up the whole room. The combination of your slightly hung-over state mixed with the intense sensation of the dream has your brain feeling quite foggy. You look around frantically trying to figure out if you're still stuck in the dream or if this is reality. You instinctively reach for your phone on your bedside table, but instead of selecting Richard's name like you usually do, you select Taron's instead. You punch the call button, then press the phone to your ear with trembling fingers. He picks up on the second ring.

"Hello?" He rasps out, as if he's intentionally trying to keep his voice down. Hearing his quieted voice pulls you quickly out of your groggy state, your eyes open wide and your heart begins to hammer even harder than it already was.

"Taron? Oh my God, I didn't mean to c- I'm sorry, just...I'll let you go". You are mortified that you called him. You have no idea where he might be. Or who he might be with, and you never would've called him if you were in your right mind. Just before you end the call, you hear him say something that sounds like "wait", but it's too late. You toss the phone onto your bed and bury your face in your hands. 

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

How could you have been so stupid to call him? It's only been a week since your last meeting and you definitely need more time before you can even attempt at any kind of conversation with him. Especially at God knows what hour this is. After a few minutes, your heart rate is just beginning to slow when you hear the unmistakable buzz of your phone buried within the sheets. You uncover your face and feel around the darkened bed for your phone. Finally retrieving it and turning it over, you are not the least bit surprised to see Taron's name lighting up the screen. You reluctantly slide the bar over and press the phone to your ear without saying anything.

"Are you ok?" You hear him ask louder now, and notice a slight echo to his voice. You sigh and press your other hand to your still aching chest.

"I'm fine", you lie.

"Are you sure? You didn't sound fine before", his tinny voice replies.

"Yes. I promise I'm fine. I'm sorry I called you. I didn't mean to. I was half asleep and I had this dream..." Uggh. Why did you mention the dream?

"A dream? About...me?"

"Yes." What would be the point of lying about it now?

"Do you want to tell me about it?" He asks, and you realize that you do. But you're not going to.

"No", you say, as you lay back down on your pillow.

"Ok...what can I do?" He asks, and you shake your head at him in the dark. Still trying to fix everything from across the ocean, assuming that's where he is of course.

"Nothing Taron, really. I'm used to it by now. I need to go back to sleep", you say, looking over at the clock and seeing that it's 4 am. You count silently in your head. Noon in England...

"Oh. Ok, well I'll let you get some rest. Call or text if you need anything?" You nod your head but realize he can't see that.

"Ok", you respond and hold the phone there a moment longer.

"Goodnight love", he says softly, and you squeeze your eyes shut against the pain you feel from those words.

"Bye", you murmur, and pull the phone away to end the call. You roll onto your side and place it gently back onto your night table, right next to the heart-shaped stone that you stupidly keep there. It's illuminated briefly from the glow of your phone, so you stare at it until it's plunged into darkness again from the dimming screen. Your eyes move to the window where the rain is now just a slow trickle on the glass. Your mind wanders to Taron and what he might have been doing when you called. It's lunchtime in England, so you imagine him grabbing a quick bite at a chic London cafe before an interview. Or maybe he's attending some posh daytime fashion event. Or maybe he's off today so he was relaxing at home with... You don't let yourself travel any further down that path, and it doesn't escape your mind that he was obviously trying to keep his voice low when you first called. He did call you back however. That's something right? He could have easily just left it alone after you ended the call, but he called you back. That shows he still cares, right? You laugh at yourself and realize that proving Taron cares about you has never been the problem. This line of thought is completely pointless so you close your eyes and try to focus on sleep instead, and pray that the dream doesn't return tonight. As you sigh and relax into your pillow, you realize that for some unexplainable reason, you actually feel better. Even though the nightmare was terrible and you are completely embarrassed for calling Taron, your mind somehow seems at peace.

As you let your mind drift into unconsciousness, you imagine another scenario where the end of the dream is different. In your mind, you can still see Taron standing in the shallow water. However, the wind has calmed and stilled around you and this time, when you try to move your feet, they move easily. You wade through the now gentle waves until you've reached him and he holds his arms out to you. You embrace him eagerly and he wraps his arms tightly around you as the waves lap lazily around your legs. He continues to hold you as the sun comes out from behind the clouds and warms you both. An intense feeling of tranquility and calm washes over you and it feels as though everything has gone back to the way it was. Just like that perfect day in Aber with him. This is the first time you've felt so relaxed in weeks and you smile widely at the fantasy. 

Just before you drift off, you notice how your breathing has returned to normal and the chest pain is completely gone as you hear yourself whisper, "Goodnight Taron."


	8. The Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You reluctantly ask Taron for a favor.

Since the next day is Saturday, you allow yourself to sleep in until 10 am, completely out of character for you. After you finally drag yourself out of bed, you decide a nice brisk run in the cool morning air might do you some good. You need to get your car anyway, so you decide to jog to the studio and then drive back home. So, after lacing up your tennis shoes and pulling your hair back, you head out to enjoy a leisurely three mile jog through your neighborhood and on to the studio. You're thankful you don't live further away. You really do love your little part of town that you've chosen to live. It's springtime in L.A. and the purple papery flowers of the jacaranda trees that greet you around every corner bring a smile to your face, and fill you with a promise of new beginnings. The memory of your brief phone conversation with Taron fills your mind and instead of feeling anxiety from the dream and calling him in the middle of the night, you actually feel pleased that he was so willing to talk to you. This feeling is familiar though, and you are careful not to get your hopes up about anything when you know there is no future for you and him. Still, it's a nice feeling to know he still cares.

Once you are inside your car and turned on the ac full blast to cool yourself from your run, the playlist from your phone starts up automatically. One of your favorite Keane songs comes on and you sing along as you drive the short distance home. You've known this song for years, but as the words come pouring out of the speakers, they take on a new meaning and you think how odd it is that you would be hearing it now.

Where do we go?  
I don't even know  
My strange old face  
And I'm thinking about those days  
And I'm thinking about those days

I wake up, it's a bad dream  
No one on my side  
I was fighting  
But I just feel too tired to be fighting  
Guess I'm not the fighting kind  
Wouldn't mind it  
If you were by my side

But you're long gone

Yeah you're long gone now

It doesn't exactly make you sad, but it does make you think about the dream again and what it means. Obviously a professional would tell you that it symbolizes you letting Taron slip away all those months ago, and now he's all but gone from your life. But you have to wonder that if you now have some sort of closure, will the dream start to fade? Only time will tell.

After you've returned home with your car and started the coffee machine for your mid-morning brew, you check your phone to see if you've missed anything while you were out. You are a little surprised to see you have several missed texts. Two from Ethan, which is odd since you didn't even realize he had your number, one from Richard...and one from Taron. The latter is the first one you read...

Taron: Hi, just checking in. I'm about to head to dinner and wanted to make sure you were ok before I did.

Richard: Hey you. How are you? I'm in town next weekend, wanted to see if you were available for lunch?

Ethan: Hey there little MUG, how are you feeling this am?

Ethan: Btw, got your number from Hailey...hope that's ok.

Where to begin, for starters, the fact that you have three different men asking over your well-being has you thinking you really need to get your life together.

You decide to respond to Ethan first to get him out of the way.

You: MUG? Feeling ok. Just had a run and got my car so that helped clear my head a little. Thanks for checking.

Ethan: MUG: Make-Up-Girl. Good to hear. I had fun last night, hope you did too before you got wasted.

You are slightly annoyed at his continued and now abbreviated "pet name" for you, and even more annoyed at his mention of your alcoholic consumption. Yes, you had a little too much to drink, but that's not what caused you to leave so hurriedly. Of course explaining that to him would require too much effort and frankly you feel like it's none of his business so you leave him on read. You respond to Richard next.

You: Hi, I'm ok. Yes, lunch sounds great.

You suddenly realize that you haven't even filled him in on your coffee shop meeting with Taron. The last he knew of the situation was when he dropped you off at your apartment after that horrible night at the party. He's checked in a few times since then but you've always brushed him off, not ready to discuss your feelings yet.

Richard: Ok great. I'll text you with details when it gets closer.

You: Sounds good.

Now for Taron. You hate that you feel you have to carefully craft your responses to him now. After everything that's happened, you don't know quite where you fall in your relationship with him. Do you treat him like an acquaintance? A friend? Act like nothing ever happened? The line is so fuzzy now, and you don't know how to behave. Taking a deep breath, you type out a slow response.

You: Hey, I'm fine. Just had a run and I feel pretty good. Sorry I bothered you last night.

He starts to type back almost immediately.

Taron: I'm glad. And you are NEVER bothering me. Ok?

You: Ok, thanks. And thanks for checking in. Enjoy your dinner.

Taron: Oh, thanks. Yeah I'm meeting a mate that I haven't seen in awhile so I'm excited to catch up with him.

You don't know why, but this bit of information causes an intense feeling of relief to wash over you. Actually, you do know why, but you don't want to admit it yourself.

You: That's nice. Have fun.

Taron: Thanks, I'll try.

Taron: Hey

You: Yeah?

Taron: You know you can still talk to me if you need to. About your dream, work, anything. I'm still here for you...ok?

You painfully swallow down the tightness that's formed in your throat, knowing that it would be very difficult at this point to reach out to him for any kind of help.

You: Understood, thanks.

Taron: Ok, well I better go. Have a great day.

You: (thumbs up)

The following week has you working like a crazy person, which is a welcome distraction. The lighting tests are still causing problems and you are still struggling to find an adequate solution for Hailey's porcelain fair complexion. She has a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks which the director still wants to see, but you have to give her enough coverage for the harsh stage lights without having her appear caked up with make-up. It's extremely frustrating to say the least. Lunchtime rolls around and you welcome the much needed break. You haven't been able to bring yourself to return to the Troubadour for your midday reprieve since that first day you saw Taron, so you carry your modest lunch of a tuna sandwich and fruit outside to the tables that are lined up on the small studio backlot. It's a beautiful day and the umbrellas set up over the tables cast a nice shade over the eating area. You have just unpacked your lunch when you notice a shadow fall over your left side. You look up to see Ethan standing there with a goofy grin on his face.

"Water?" He asks as he extends his hand out to you, which is holding a fancy bottle of water.

"Umm, sure. Thanks", you say as you accept the bottle and notice that he is now making to sit down beside you.

"Mind if I join you?" He asks, now that he is already seated. You figure it would be rude to refuse him after he just gave you a bottle of water that probably cost more than your entire lunch.

"Sure", you respond cooly, untwisting the cap off the bottle.

"So how's your day going?" He asks, before taking a sip of his own water.

"I've had better honestly."

"Oh? What's going on?" He asks, seeming genuinely interested. You then give him a brief explanation of your difficulties with Hailey and the issue of finding an appropriate foundation for her, knowing that it probably sounds boring as hell. However, he listens intently, nodding his head as you talk. When you're finished, he crinkles his eyebrows together and looks off into the distance apparently trying to find a solution. You scoff a little at him, wondering what he could possibly come up with. His eyes suddenly light as if he's had an idea.

"Is there anyone you could reach out to for advice? Someone you've worked with before? A mentor maybe?" He suggests, and you are surprised by his astuteness. Your mind immediately goes to Lizzie, the lead make-up artist on Rocketman, and her extreme knowledge and professionalism on set. But then your heart sinks, thinking that it would be way too awkward to reach out to her after you were essentially fired from the job. Even if it wasn't your fault.

"Yeah maybe, that's an interesting idea", you say honestly. Ethan beams at you, looking very pleased with himself. You can't help but smirk back at him. You then eat your lunch in silence as he fills you in on all the latest drama that comes with the exciting world of set design. As the rest of the day passes, you can't help but think of Ethan's suggestion and wonder if reaching out to Lizzie would really be as uncomfortable as you imagine. It just seems odd for you to ask her for a favor after the strange way things were left. You wish you had the number for Bryce's make-up artist. She would know just as much since Bryce has a similar complexion, and then you wouldn't have to worry about the confrontation. But you don't, and the only other contacts you have from the movie are Richard and...Taron. You contemplate this for a minute, knowing that Richard would probably be a dead end and that Taron would most likely be able to help. But are you just looking for an excuse to contact him again? He did say he was there for you, for anything. Right? Asking him for help on something work related wouldn't be completely out of the ordinary, right? You decide to sleep on it and make a decision by morning.

By the time morning rolls around and the first thought that pops into your mind is Taron as usual, you've pretty much made up your mind to ask him the favor. At this point, what do you have to lose? So, after checking the time and seeing that it's an appropriate hour in England, you quickly type out a text before you can talk yourself out of it.

You: Sorry to bother you, but can I ask a favor?

You wait patiently for him to text back, but after thirty minutes of dead silence, your patience is wearing thin. You are about to give up on him and get ready for work, when your phone suddenly rings, causing you to jump slightly. You must be more nervous about talking to him than you thought. Seeing that it is in fact him, and ignoring your heart that just started beating twice as fast as it was before, you inhale deeply and answer the call.

"Hello?"

"Hey, sorry I didn't text back right away. I wanted to wait until I could get to a place to call", he explains, and you're not sure if this is a good or bad thing.

"It's ok. Thanks for calling back."

"Of course. So what's the favor?" Right to the point, ok.

"Well, it's a long story, but I'm having trouble with one of my actresses' make-up and I was hoping to get some advice from Bryce's artist. From Rocketman", you add, just in case it's not clear. "I felt uncomfortable calling Lizzie so I thought maybe you might be able to help me? Maybe you could track down her artist's number for me?" Now that you are saying this out loud, it sounds ridiculous. You should've just done the mature thing and called Lizzie yourself. Why would Taron have her contact info?

"Oh...", he sounds disappointed. What was he expecting you to say? "Umm yeah, I could sure try. I'm still in contact with Lizzie so it shouldn't be an issue. Give me a few hours and I'll get back to you?"

"Sure. Take as long as you need. No rush."

"Ok, will do. Talk to you soon?" He asks, and you realize he's ending the conversation, but you asked him what you needed to ask, so no need to keep him any longer.

"Yes, thank you Taron."

"Bye."

"Bye." You press end on the call and are left with a feeling of dissatisfaction. But why? You asked him your favor. He said he'd try and help. So what's the problem? You wanted more, that's the problem. You always want more when it comes to him. Feeling quite frustrated with yourself, you hurriedly get yourself ready so that you can make it to work on time.

The feeling follows you throughout your day and is not made any better when Taron still hasn't called you back by the end of your work shift. To make matters worse, you realize at 6 pm that it's 2 am in England, and he is most likely asleep. Well, you had said there was no rush after all.

After a restless night, you awake the next morning to find that you finally have a text from Taron.

Taron: I know you're probably asleep, but here's her contact info.

You click on the link to Bryce's make-up artist's info, and decide to call her during your lunch break today. You're relieved to hopefully have some insight on the issue you've been having with Hailey, but you are still left with an unsatisfied feeling from his text, even though he had provided exactly what you had asked of him. The text just seemed a bit unfeeling, robotic even. What had you expected anyway? You see that he sent the text several hours ago, so you simply respond with a "thank you" to which he responds an hour later with a thumbs up, and you leave it at that.

At lunchtime, you call Sarah, Bryce's make-up artist on Rocketman, and find that she is a very pleasant woman who is more than willing to help. You wonder briefly if you should've made more of an effort to get to know her while you were on set. The two of you talk for thirty minutes, and by the time the call is over, you have several ideas of things to try. Quickly scarfing down the rest of your lunch, you hurry back inside to find Hailey and try them out. She is excited for your enthusiasm and an hour later, you think you've just about got the right formula that will work for her. The only thing left is to wait for the lighting tests later this afternoon and see if the director approves.

Several hours later, you nervously await as they do their tests, but feel confident that this will be the one. To your delight, the director comes out all smiles and says that he is finally happy with the results. You are beaming from ear to ear at Hailey who is equally all smiles, and you make a mental note to text Sarah later and thank her.

After making copious notes on what you did and reluctantly removing her make-up that you worked so hard on, you clear your station and gather your belongings to head home. As you are just about to walk out the back door, you are met by Ethan who appears to be on his way out as well.

"Hey little MUG!" You roll your eyes at him. "You look happy, what happened?" He observes and you wonder if you don't normally look happy.

"Oh, nothing. I just finally had a breakthrough with Hailey and we figured out something that will work for her", you explain as you walk to your car with him by your side.

"Oh? How did that happen?" You sigh and realize you have to tell him his idea worked.

"I reached out to an artist I've worked with in the past and she gave me some advice", you say as nonchalantly as possible.

"Oh?? So you're saying, you took MY advice and it worked?" He says a bit arrogantly and you smirk at him.

"Yes, it was good advice. Thank you." Luckily, he doesn't push it.

"No problem. Glad it worked out", he says smiling. You are about to unlock your car when he speaks again. "So how about we go get a drink to celebrate?" He asks. So much for not pushing his luck.

"I don't think so", you retort, unlocking your car and throwing your bag inside.

"Aww come on, just one little drink?" He whines.

"It's been a long week, and I'm not really up for drinking after last weekend", you say, shuddering as you remember your near panic attack at the Mexican restaurant.

"Ok...how about coffee then? There's a little coffee shop just down the street", he says pointing in that direction, and you assume he's referring to the one you and Taron went to not long ago.

"If I drink coffee now I'll never sleep tonight", you say, realizing you are running out of excuses.

"What are you fifty? Come on, just one coffee and I'll leave you alone", he says. Why do you have the feeling that's not true? You sigh heavily and give in, hoping that it is.

"Fine. ONE coffee, then I'm going home. And not THAT coffee shop. There's another one in the other direction. We can go there."

"Ok cool, want to drive with me?" He asks.

"No, we can walk. It's not far", you say as you lock your car again and start walking. He shrugs his shoulders and trots a few paces to catch up with you.

The coffee shop is only about two blocks away and once you enter, you both make your way to the counter to order. After ordering a decaf latte for yourself which you insist on paying for, Ethan points out a table in the corner and the two of you sit. He takes a few sips of his black coffee, then sets his cup down and looks pointedly over at you.

"So, tell me about this guy that you're so hung up on that you're not ready to date or whatever", he says making air quotes around "date" and you nearly choke on your latte, not expecting this line of questioning.

"Ok, see, this is why I didn't want to have a drink with you. That topic is off limits, ok?" You say, not bothering to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"No problem." He pauses, thinking. "Is he the reason you freaked out at the restaurant the other night?" He asks, and you shoot him a stern look of warning. "Ok, sorry!" He says holding his hands up in mock surrender. You just shake your head at him and continue to sip at your coffee. "I just think you're a really cool person and I'd like to get to know you better. That's all", he says sounding earnest, so you decide to take pity on him.

You sigh heavily before speaking. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to sound rude. I'm just not interested in a relationship right now, so if that's what you're getting at, you're wasting your time." No point in sugar coating anything.

"Understood. Is friendship ok?" He asks, grinning sheepishly at you.

"Yes, friendship is fine. As long as that's really what it is."

"You got it boss", he says giving you a little salute and you can't help but grin sideways at him. You spend the next thirty minutes chatting about nothing in particular with no uncomfortable topics. After you've both finished your coffees, he walks you back to your car and you drive home. As you drive, you think about your easy conversation with him and you have to admit, it was nice to able to converse with someone about everyday things with no drama. It's been awhile since you've had a friendship like that, and maybe it wouldn't be so bad to have someone in your life that has nothing to do with your time before and during Rocketman. You also realize that after you told Ethan that the topic of Taron was off limits, you hadn't thought about him for the rest of the conversation. It only bothers you a little that it was a nice respite from the norm.

After a relaxing shower, a quick bite to eat, and putting on your most comfortable pj's, you snuggle into your bed and pick up a book that you've started at least a dozen times. You've found it so difficult to concentrate lately that you usually end up reading each sentence twice until you finally give up and turn on the tv instead to mindlessly zone out. But you are determined to try and stick with it this time, needing to engage your brain in something other than the usual. You've just settled in and read the first two pages when your phone rings. Sighing and setting your book down, you reach for the phone from your nightstand to see who could be calling you now. Surely not Ethan after you just left him an hour ago? Picking it up, your heart starts its familiar racing and you can't help the smile that spreads across your face as you see the name flashing there.

Taron.


	9. The Invitation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You receive an interesting invitation.

You glance at the time, 8 pm. 4 am in England, why is he calling so late? And more importantly, why are you in bed so early? Those thoughts are fleeting as you slide the bar across to accept the call.

"Hello?"

"Do you have FX? If so, turn on your tv." You really never know what to expect when you talk to Taron, and now is no different.

"Ok...hold on, let me find my remote", you say as you dig around the sheets for the small black device. Finally locating it lodged between your pillow and headboard, you pull it out and press the power button.

"Do you have it yet?" Taron asks impatiently.

"Patience please, I just found the remote, now I have to figure out which channel FX is", you explain as you press the guide button. You hear him sigh heavily on the other end of the line. He never did have much patience. "Ok, got it", you say as you finally press the corresponding channel number. The screen switches to a shot of Taron in a tight neoprene ski suit talking to a jeans and flannel clad Hugh Jackman, and you immediately smile. "Oh, it's that Hugh Jackman movie", you say, grinning widely at your own joke. Of course you recognize that it's the movie he made about the famous ski jumper, Eddie the Eagle, but he doesn't have to know that.

"Ha, ha. You're hilarious", Taron retorts and you giggle.

"I try. What are you doing up so late anyway?" You ask, surprised that you even have the same channel as him.

"Late? It's 9:00." Now you're really confused.

"Oh...where are you exactly?" You ask, assuming that he is still in England but you're not sure why. It's not like you have a detailed itinerary of his schedule. You actually know nothing of his whereabouts and that bothers you a little for some reason. You miss knowing exactly where he was supposed to be at all times, and you try and tell yourself that's not at all creepy.

"I'm in Chicago. I'm just here for a couple of days for a few radio interviews. But I'm in my hotel room now", he explains, and you imagine him sprawled out on his bed flipping through the tv channels like any other normal human being. Admittedly, the image gives you a slight thrill.

"Oh, ok", you say, wondering how long a flight from Chicago to L.A. would be. You immediately push that thought out of your mind and focus on the tv screen, which of course doesn't help since it's Taron's face staring back at you. You put the phone on speaker and lay it down on the pillow next to you so you can relax back onto your own pillow and watch. It really is a sweet little movie, and seeing it brings you back to the last time you watched it when you were staying with Taron after the accident with your hand. That seems like such a long time ago, almost like another lifetime, and you can't help but long for those simpler days, even if they didn't seem simple at the time. Taron's voice coming out of the little speaker to your left brings you out of your visit down memory lane.

"Bloody hell, I forgot how much weight I put on for this film", he says, sounding embarrassed.

"Taron please, you're perfect", you say without thinking, then slap your hand over your forehead. You really need to get a Taron filter.

"Thank you for saying that but we both know that's not true", he says seriously.

"I guess neither of us are" you answer back.

"Touché." The next few minutes pass in silence as you both watch the movie and it occurs to you how easy it is to fall back into pleasant conservation with him. Almost as if none of the recurring drama between you has ever happened or even mattered. You watch the screen as Taron falls time after time off the long ski jump, and you cringe every time he hits the ground.

"Ouch Taron. I'm hoping that was a stunt double?" You ask sardonically, knowing that it had to be.

"Yeah, that and a little CGI movie magic", he confirms.

"Ahh yes, good old movie magic. I guess they didn't have to use too much of that for Rocketman?" You ask, picturing the various scenes in your head.

"Well yeah, a few. Like the water scene. They didn't actually submerge Matthew underwater." You smile, recalling the adorable young boy they cast as Elton's childhood self. You didn't get the chance to work with him, but you saw him on set a couple of times. "Of course they had no problem submerging me, but I AM Wales' foremost underwater actor", he says with a chuckle.

"Yeah, I guess you have been underwater a lot huh?" You say, recalling some of his other movies you've watched with him.

"Yeah, I'm a pro now. I've had a few stunt doubles throughout my career, but I did throw myself down the stairs for Rocketman. That was all me", he says proudly.

"Really? When was that?" You ask, not remembering such a scene.

"It was after you left", he says matter-of-factly.

"Oh", you reply, and wonder just how much of the filming you actually missed, and mentally kick yourself once again.

"Yeah, it's a scene where Elton has had a really bad night. Over-eating, drug use, bulimia...then he has a heart attack of sorts and falls down the stairs", he explains.

"Oh wow, did you hurt yourself?" You ask, genuinely concerned for him although it happened many months ago.

"No, we were very careful and planned it all out with the stunt people. And I was wearing a back pad."

"I can't believe you did that. I wish I could've seen it, although it's probably better that I didn't", you say, shuddering at the thought of seeing him in a dangerous situation.

"Well, I felt very strongly that the character of Elton was my character, and I didn't want any moment in the film to be anyone else's. If that makes sense." The dedication he shows to his work has always impressed you.

"It makes perfect sense. I miss seeing you as Elton", you say, remembering his little tooth gap and red hair.

"You do?" He asks.

"I do. The costumes were my favorite." Suddenly the memory of him taking you to the costume tent fills your mind and you wish desperately you were back there again. When you stupidly promised him you wouldn't push him away anymore. When things were still...hopeful. Taron brings you out of your reminiscent state by asking you another question.

"What else do you miss?" He asks softly and you turn your face toward the phone.

"What do you mean?" You ask, unsure if he means the movie or England... or him.

"Tell me what you miss the most." You now turn your whole body toward the phone on the pillow, and rest your head against your folded arm as you gaze down at it. You wish it were him lying there instead. Silly.

"Well, a lot of things." Where to begin... You think for a moment, knowing you could never list out all the things you miss about Taron, but there are definitely a few things that stick out in your memory. "I miss you driving me to work every day. I miss you bringing me coffee", you say with a little chuckle. He doesn't say anything so you continue. "I miss working on you. I miss how you were always singing when you thought no one was listening." You stop and think fondly of the memory. "I miss your smile, how it would light up your face. I miss your eyes and how they always seemed to SEE me and not just look at me. I miss your compassion and humbleness, and how you would always make everyone feel important and included. I miss how warm your skin was and how it felt when I touched you...and when you touched me", you add quietly. "I miss how safe and protected I felt when you held me, and how you would hold me as long as I needed..." You realize that you are rambling now and have probably said too much, even though there are a million more things you could rattle off about him. The other end of the line is silent and you wonder if he's still there. "Taron? You still with me?" You ask. You hear him clear his throat and his voice sounds strained when he speaks.

"Yes", he answers roughly. "That was lovely, all those things you said. Did you really mean all that?"

"Of course I did. My time with you is something I will always cherish. Nothing could change that", you tell him, and hope he knows you're sincere.

"Thank you." There's a brief pause, then, "Do you want to know what I miss?"

"Umm, sure", you say, waiting with bated breath.

"I miss you working on me too. I miss you touching me. I always loved it when you would touch my face. It made me feel, I dunno, special somehow." You rest your head against your hand and close your eyes as his melodious voice fills your ears. "I miss your kindness and grace you gave to everyone every day. I miss the commitment you always showed to your work, even after you were hurt. I miss your passion and drive. I miss your quirky sense of humor. I miss how you would always put me in my place, how you kept me grounded." You smile to yourself at his words. "I miss the way your hair would tickle my nose when I would hold you. I miss your beauty, inside and out. I miss the way you would look at me, like I was the only person in the room." You open your eyes and know that in your mind, he was. "I miss the way your lips felt against mine..." He trails off and you stare at the phone, and notice that your breathing is a little heavier. This line of conversation is threatening to go to a place it can't go.

"Taron, we shouldn't be talking about this", you say quietly.

"I know." He's quiet after that and you're not sure what else to say but you don't have to because Taron speaks again. "I guess I should let you go. I'm sure you need to sleep." It's still early but you know that the conversation needs to end, but it doesn't stop your disappointment.

"Ok", you agree simply.

"But before I go, I did want to ask you something." Your breathing picks up again, what now?

"Ok...", you say again.

"Have you ever heard of the Met Gala?" He asks, and you are surprised by his question and sudden change of subject. Of course with Taron, you are never really that surprised by anything.

"Umm yeah, I think so. Is that where everyone dresses up weird?" You ask, recalling images you've seen in the past of celebrities dressed in outlandish outfits walking the red carpet. Taron laughs slightly.

"Yes, that's the one. So, I got invited this year, so did Richard, and I was wondering if you would...like to come? It's in two weeks, I know it's late notice." Your heart starts beating wildly, both at the thought of attending such an outrageous event, and at going as what? Taron's...date?

"What? Me? Why wouldn't you go with...Ashley?" You swallow around her name and shut your eyes momentarily. Saying it still proves difficult for you.

"She has a previous commitment", he states. "You would be going...as my friend. That's what friends do right? I think it would be fun." You know you don't even have to consider this. It would definitely be a bad idea. Yes, you are starting to be on normal speaking terms again with him, but this? It would just be too weird. But you're not sure how to tell him without hurting his feelings. Honestly you're surprised he would even ask and put you in such an awkward position.

"I don't think so Taron. It's too soon and I wouldn't feel comfortable. I'm sorry", you say, feeling horrible for turning him down.

"It's ok. No worries. I figured as much but just thought I'd ask", he says sounding discouraged. Did he really expect you to say yes? "Well, goodnight love. Thanks for talking with me. It was nice. Sweet dreams."

"Goodnight Taron. Thanks for watching Eddie with me", you say, hoping to leave the conversation on a light note.

"Anytime", he says, then the phone disconnects.

You have the dream again later that night, but it's a little faded around the edges and doesn't cause as much stress as usual. For this you're thankful at least, although it does cause you to wake feeling a little more groggy than usual, mostly just from tossing and turning all night. You agonized over turning down Taron's invitation all night long, even though you know in your gut it was the right thing to do, no question. He seemed so sad when he hung up, and you hate being the one to make him sad, even after all the pain he's caused you. You've always had a tough time saying no to him, but it's probably something you need to work on and this was a step in the right direction. Finally giving up on trying to squeeze in any more sleep, you roll over bright and early the next morning to check your phone. The first thing you see is a text from Richard.

Richard: I know it's early and last minute, but are you still available for lunch today?

With everything going on, you had almost forgotten that you'd promised him a lunch date. Quickly checking your work schedule, you type a text back to him.

You: Yes, lunch works today. 12:30 ok?

It's a few minutes before he texts back so you get up to use the bathroom and start the coffee maker. Picking up your phone again, you see that he's responded.

Richard: 12:30 is perfect. Anything in particular you're in the mood for?

You: There's a cute little diner across the street from my work. Meet you there?

You figure you can get more work done if you just meet him close by.

Richard: Sounds great. Shoot me the address and I'll see you then.

You: Will do.

You send him the address and continue to get ready for your day.

It's another busy day at the studio and you are looking forward to the time when shooting can finally begin and all of the rehearsal, lighting tests and set construction will be over with. You check your watch at 12:15 and can't believe the time has gone by so quickly. Luckily, most of the cast and crew are taking lunch as well, so you tell the director you'll be back in an hour, and head out into the bright sunshine to meet Richard across the street. Upon entering the diner, you realize you are a tad early, so you inform the waitress that you are expecting someone and she leads you to a booth near a window. You slide in and take the menu she offers, then order an iced tea to sip on as you wait. Not long after, you see movement over your menu as you look up to see Richard sliding into the booth seat across from you. You set your menu down and smile over at him, still feeling strange about the last time you saw him.

"Hi", you say nervously.

"Hi yourself", he answers as the waitress hands him a menu and stares a little too long at him before walking away. You shake your head slightly and smile. There's no doubt that Richard is a strikingly handsome man, but he's never really been your type. You're glad to have him as a friend though, and find the occasional longing glances he seems to get from men AND women rather comical. Especially since he seems completely oblivious to them.

"So...", you say, feeling awkward.

"So...", he repeats.

"Ok, I'm just going to get this out so bear with me." He is staring intently at you and the radiant blue of his eyes in the sun-lit window distracts you momentarily. "I want to apologize if I was rude or if I hurt your feelings that night at the party. Or anytime since when you texted, I was just really hurt and confused and-" He interrupts you, putting his hand out to touch yours lightly on the table.

"Hey, no need to apologize. Really. I understand completely. I can't even imagine what you must have been feeling." You lower your head and nod, reliving the sting of that horrible night. "I'm the one that needs to apologize", he states and you look back up at him confused. Seeing your confusion, he explains further. "Taron had told me what was going on and I should have warned you about...her. I should've told you."

"No Richard, you were right. It wasn't your place to tell. TARON should've told me." He nods his head in silence.

"But I could've stopped you that night at the party. You shouldn't have had to find out that way", he says, and you can hear the regret in his voice.

"I don't know, I was pretty determined", you say laughing at yourself.

"True, I just knew it was going to end badly and there was nothing I could do to stop it."

"This is not your fault Rich. Taron shouldn't have put you in that position. I had to find out sooner or later. But none of that even matters now. Taron and I talked a few weeks ago and we're trying to move past it, so can we just try and put it all behind us?"

"I would love to", he says smiling. Just at that moment the waitress comes back to take your orders even though he hasn't even looked at his menu. You look up at her and order a cheeseburger and fries then look over at Richard.

"I'll have the same", he says still looking at you and grinning. It's a huge relief to know that you still have him as a friend. After the waitress leaves, the two of you catch up on life, work, relationships and engage in friendly banter. By the time the waitress brings your food, it's as if nothing weird has happened between you at all, and you are thrilled about that.

"So", Richard says after swallowing a mouthful of hamburger. "I actually have an ulterior motive for asking you to lunch."

"Oh?" You ask, intrigued.

"Yep, have you heard of the Met Gala?" He asks and you have a moment of deja vu. Didn't you just have this conversation with Taron?

"Yes..."

"It's in a couple of weeks, want to go as my "date"?" He asks, grinning and using air quotes around "date". You nearly choke on your fry you just bit into.

"You're asking me to go the Met Gala with you?" You ask, sounding astonished because you are. What are the odds that two different gorgeous men would ask you to the same event within a twenty four hour period? Sometimes you can't even believe this is your life, for better or worse.

"Yes, is that so strange?" He asks, sounding confused by your reaction.

"Well yes. But mainly because Taron asked me the same thing just last night."

"Oh, I didn't realize you two were still talking so regularly...wait, he asked you out on a date??" He asks, sounding shocked.

"We weren't, we aren't. It's complicated I guess. But no, not as a date, as a friend. But that would just be too weird so I told him no."

"Umm yeah it would be. I'm surprised he asked", he says, still sounding dumbfounded. "What about going with me though, would that be weird?" You think this over for a second.

"No, I don't think so. Except for the fact that I told you yes after I told him no. But like you said, it's surprising that he would ask anyway. But that's kind of besides the point. I really don't think I'd fit in at an event like that", you say, knowing for a fact you wouldn't.

"That's bullshit. You deserve to go to an event like that just as much as anyone. And I think it would be good for you. You need to get out of this town for a bit. Have you been anywhere since you got back from England?" He asks as he takes another bite.

"No...but it's so last minute and I don't have time to make any plans. There's plane tickets, a hotel, a dress..." You feel overwhelmed just thinking about it.

"Well if that's the only thing keeping you from going, I can fix that. I'll make the arrangements for you, or rather I'll have someone make them", he says, flashing you a pearly white grin.

"Oh no, I can't let you do that."

"Why not?" He asks firmly and you ponder that. Honestly you can't think of a good reason not to, and maybe it would be good for you to break up your routine a little. Be a little more social, act your age and just have fun. Would that be so bad? Besides, it's kind of a once in a lifetime opportunity. Maybe you shouldn't be so quick to dismiss that.

"Do you think it'll be weird with Taron there?" You ask, imaging his reaction to finding out you agreed to go with Richard and not him.

"Who cares?" He says, and you're surprised at his retort. He does have a point though. Why does it matter what Taron thinks? You don't owe him an explanation.

"Ok", you finally say with an exaggerated sigh. "Let me just check my work schedule to make sure I can be gone for a couple of days, but it shouldn't be a problem", you say as you watch his eyes light up.

"Yay!" He exclaims, clapping his hands together softly like an excited child and you grin at him.

You spend the rest of lunch discussing what he will be wearing and what you would feel comfortable wearing since he will be procuring your outfit for you. You make it quite clear that you are not interested in wearing any over-the-top get-ups like you've seen on the internet, but rather something classy and elegant. He seems to understand and you can't help but feel just the tiniest bit excited about your glamorous night out. The only thing that clouds your excitement is the nagging thought about what Taron will think of you going with Richard, instead of him.

https://linktr.ee/nationalresourceslist


	10. The Big Apple

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You prepare for the big event.

As soon as you've checked your work schedule and cleared it with the director to make sure it's alright if you're gone for a few days, you contact Richard immediately so that he can begin to make plans for you. You are still a little uncomfortable with him taking care of everything, but he reassures you once again that it is no problem at all. You realize that part of the reason he's doing all this is probably because he feels the need to make up for not telling you about Taron's girlfriend. Of course you don't blame him at all, but you know he still feels partially responsible. You really meant what you said to him though, you just want to put it all behind you and try and move on. And if letting him convince you to go to the Met Gala with him and making all the plans for you helps with that, so be it. 

You have to admit, you are getting rather excited about flying to New York and attending the lavish party. You've only been to Manhattan one other time and it was for a family trip with your parents when you were a teenager, so you are more than a little excited at the thought of experiencing the "city that never sleeps" as an adult. The only thing that still plagues your thoughts and dampens your excitement is the anticipation of Taron's reaction. You've been going back and forth as to whether you should just tell him beforehand so it's not a complete shock when he sees you there with Richard. At the same time, you could be blowing this all out of proportion as usual, and he may not care in the slightest. You and Richard are good friends after all, why wouldn't you go with him? It's completely innocent and even if it weren't, it still wouldn't be any of Taron's business, but that doesn't stop you from worrying. Fortunately, you no longer have to decide whether to tell him or not when Richard calls you mid-week to give you an update on the plans.

"Ok, so I've had my assistant email you your itinerary. It has your flight info, hotel accommodations and driver info", Richard explains.

"Driver info?" You ask, slightly confused.

"Well yeah, how do you expect to get around in NYC?" He says, chuckling at your naivety.

"I don't know...taxi? Uber?"

"Oh no no no, not in New York City on Met Gala night. You'll have a driver, it'll be fine", he states.

"Will we not be riding together?" You ask, suddenly terrified at the thought of walking up to the opulent Metropolitan Museum of Art all alone.

"I have some things to take care of just before the event so I'll meet you there." When there is a pause, he continues. "You'll be fine. Promise." You sigh heavily and concede. What other choice do you have?

"Fine."

"Good girl. Oh! Your dress will be waiting for you in the hotel room. You're going to love it. Well, I think you will." You can practically see him beaming through the phone. You really do owe him one.

"Ok, thank you Richard. You're the best."

"Don't thank me. It was nothing, really", he says nonchalantly.

"That's not true. It means a lot to me that you would go to all this trouble for me", you insist.

"It was no trouble at all, but you're welcome." You are waiting for him to say something else, but there's a pause on the other end of the line. "Umm, one more thing", he finally says.

"Yes?" What more could there be?

"I sort of told Taron that we were going together." You're surprised by his admission and not exactly upset, but your pulse definitely picks up.

"Oh. You did?"

"Yes. He and I were talking and he asked me if I was bringing someone so I kind of had to tell him", he says, all in a rush.

"Oh, well that makes sense. He was going to find out eventually." You pause, thinking about whether you should ask your next question, and then decide you might as well. "Was he...upset?"

"No, not at all. Didn't even seem surprised really." Oh.

"Hmm. Interesting." Maybe he really doesn't mind? But why does that bother you? "Did he say...if he was bringing someone?" You immediately regret the question but it's already out there now.

"No he didn't...but I doubt he is. Ashley's out of town", he adds bluntly. "Why? Does it matter?" He asks, and you feel even more dumb for asking.

"No...not really. Just curious I guess."

"Ok...well, I've got to run but shoot me a text later if you have any questions."

"Ok, will do." You are about to say "bye" when he speaks up again.

"Hey, it's going to be fun, ok?" He says quietly and you sincerely hope that he's right.

"Ok, bye Richard."

"Bye."

The week leading up to your quick getaway to NYC crawls away at a snails pace. At least things are going more smoothly in the make-up department now that you've nailed down Hailey's make-up routine. But the hours are long and tension is high with the rest of the cast and crew as they scramble trying to get everything ready before the Summer hiatus. Shooting for the television show will begin in early August and there is only about a month left before everyone scatters for Summer vacations and trips. You of course have zero plans, although your mom has mentioned something about a mother-daughter trip to San Francisco which sounds interesting. You are waiting impatiently in Hailey's dressing room for her to finish running some rehearsal scenes, when Ethan pops his head in with his usual enthusiasm.

"Hey MUG! You look bored, want some company?" He asks and you have to keep yourself from rolling your eyes.

"No, I'm fine. Just waiting on Hailey", you answer, and expect him to move along. Of course he doesn't and instead steps further into the room, leaning against the doorway and folding his arms across his chest. 

"You ok?" He asks and you realize your tone was probably a bit short. 

"Yes, like I said, just waiting. I'm ready to get out of here", you say honestly.

"Oh? Big plans this weekend?" He asks grinning and reminding you of the Cheshire Cat. 

"Well, sorta, I guess", you reply vaguely.

"Ahh. Well, let me know when you want to grab coffee again...or dinner. Whatever. I had a good time and would love to do it again." You're confused by his statement since you're pretty sure a second meeting was not implied at the first, but you don't have a chance to respond because your phone starts ringing from across the room on the counter. You make to get up, but Ethan side-steps you and grabs the phone then holds it out to you. You glare at him, shocked that he had the audacity to actually pick up YOUR ringing phone. Taking it from him quickly, you slide the bar across without looking at the name and turn your back on him. You assume it's probably Richard with some last minute trip details, but when you hear Taron's voice instead, your heart stills in your chest. Shit. Is he calling about the Met Gala? You whip back around to see Ethan's retreating back down the hallway, then wait on pins and needles as you always do when you take a call from Taron. You clear your throat before answering.

"Hi."

"Hi. Are you busy?" He asks and your heart leaps into your throat.

"Umm, no. Just waiting for rehearsal to end. What's up?" You try and say as calmly as possible. Why are you so nervous? You have every right to go to the event with anyone you choose.

"Oh, ok. Well, I had a minute so I thought I'd check in and see how it went with Sarah." What?

"Huh? Sarah?" You definitely weren't expecting that, but then you suddenly remember what he's referring to and speak up before he can. "Oh, yes, that." You were so sure he was going to ask about the Gala that you hadn't even been thinking about the favor you'd asked of him. You quickly redirect your thoughts so you can answer his question. "Great actually. I called her and she gave me some good advice that's working really well. So, thank you for giving me her info."

"Oh, it was no problem. I'm glad it worked out. It was a good idea to think of reaching out to her", he says, and you smile at his compliment.

"Well actually, it wasn't my idea", you admit.

"Oh?" He asks, sounding intrigued.

"Yeah, it was actually my friend's...well my co-worker's idea." Taron chuckles.

"Well which is it? Friend or co-worker?" He asks playfully.

"Both I guess. I mean, we did have coffee the other night...and there was a happy hour, sort of. So yeah, I guess friends", you say, feeling as if you're rambling.

"That's great. I'm glad you're making friends there", he says sincerely. "So is she a fellow make-up artist?" He asks, sounding genuinely interested.

"He...actually. And no, he's with sets", you say, wondering why he would assume it's a she.

"Oh. Gotcha. Well, they're calling me so I gotta go. Talk to you later", he says abruptly and you wonder if he's already ended the call when you respond. The sudden need to tell him about Richard overwhelms you and you gasp out his name before he can hang up.

"Taron, wait...I wanted to tell you-", but he interrupts you.

"Sorry love, I've really got to go."

"O-Ok, bye Taron", you stutter.

"Bye..." And then he says your name with such finality before ending the call that it leaves you with a feeling of dread that stays with you long after. You are also painfully aware that he didn't even mention the Met Gala or you attending with Richard. It should prove to be an interesting evening indeed. You don't hear from him again before it's time to leave for New York, and the silence is quite deafening.

The flight attendant announces that you are beginning your descent into the LaGuardia airport and your heart immediately begins to race. Once again you wonder if you've made a big mistake by coming here. You never do impulsive things like this, unless of course you count staying in England to work on Rocketman when you didn't know a soul. But that's beside the point, this is a huge deal. Bigger than anything you've ever done really. Not only are you going to an event that is completely out of place for you, but you're going with your good friend who just happens to be good friends with your ex-lover who will also be there. It seems like a giant disaster just waiting to happen. What were you thinking by agreeing to go? You clench your fists and feel a slight pain go through your left hand that caused you so many issues months ago, but now is barely noticeable that you ever had an accident. Your mind drifts to that day in the costume tent and Taron in that ridiculous queen ensemble, and you can't help but wonder what he will be wearing to the Gala. Whatever it is, you know he will be breathtaking.

As you anxiously wait for the airplane to touch down onto the runway, you think about the last time you were on an plane. It was basically the worst eleven hours of your life. You had just left Taron, not knowing if you were ever going to see him again and wondering if you'd made the right decision to leave. Now here you are several months later, having not only seen Taron again, but reconnected with him only to have your heart broken all over again. You still wonder what his reaction will be to seeing you with Richard at an event he asked you to, even though he apparently already knows. The fact that he's said nothing about it is unnerving, to say the least. As you hear the wheels on the plane extend, you know it's too late to back out now. The airplane touches down, wheels screeching, and the speed at which it screams down the runway is a match to your own beating heart.

After exiting the plane and retrieving your luggage, you make your way to the curbside pick-up area and are a little surprised to see a man dressed in black standing there holding a sign with your name on it. You now remember the driver that Richard had spoke of. Approaching the man hesitantly, you make eye contact with him and tell him that it's you.

"Ahh, very good. Welcome to New York, Miss. Mr. Madden arranged for me to pick you up and take you to your hotel, and anywhere else you need to go. My name is George", says the pleasant and slightly rotund middle-aged man as he hands you his card. Wow, Richard really pulled out all the stops. How are you ever going to thank him for all this?

"Thank you, it's very nice to be here", you respond, and hand over your luggage handle as he reaches out for it. He then leads you to his waiting black SUV outside, opens the back door for you, then places your suitcase in the back before making his way around to the driver's side. You shrug slightly, inhale the slightly smog-filled New York air and step into the vehicle.

The ride to the hotel takes about thirty minutes and the traffic isn't nearly as bad as it's always made out to be. You enjoy watching the massive skyscrapers flash by the window, and it helps take your mind off your impending activity and what it holds later on. There's a slight sense of foreboding that you can't shake, but you keep telling yourself it's just nerves. You're here to have a good time, no matter what.

Upon arriving at the hotel, you check in and are shown up to your room on the thirty second floor. It's a very nice hotel, a little lush for your taste and nicer than any place you've ever stayed, but you decide that you deserve it. The bellman walks you into your room and sets your luggage down, asks if you need anything else to which you tell him no thank you, and give him a generous tip. You take a quick glance around the room and note that there's a king size bed, a small plush loveseat, table and chairs with a pretty flower arrangement on top and a floor to ceiling window with a gorgeous view of central park. You smile to yourself as you look out over the busy city that seems so far removed from this room, even though it's literally right in front of your eyes. Something catches your eye in the corner, and you see that it's a large garment bag hanging from a hook on the wall. You go over to it, and unzipping it slowly, gasp when you see the eye-catching formal satin navy gown inside. There's a note attached that says:

Thought this would look perfect on you. Hope it's the right size. x

Wow, you REALLY owe him one. In your haste to get here, you hadn't even thought much about what you'd be wearing. You had found out that the theme for the Gala was "Camp", and upon googling it to find out exactly what that meant, you realized you still didn't really know. Pulling the dress out to get a closer look, you carry it into the bathroom and hold it up against yourself. It's simple yet elegant in a shiny sheen fabric with a floor length flared hemline, but it has a slit on one side that goes almost all the way up to the waist. The neckline has spaghetti straps with a v-neck front, and you applaud yourself for bringing a strapless bra. Actually, in a rare moment of self-indulgence, you had gone to Victoria's Secret and purchased a matching black lace bra and panty set. Obviously no one will be seeing your undergarments, but you figure you might as well be fancy underneath as well. Turning it over, you see that the most impressive design feature of the gown is in the back. It has an intricate pattern of criss-cross straps that tie at the back of the waist, and you wonder briefly how exactly you're going to lace it up by yourself. It's definitely the most glamorous thing you have ever or possibly will ever wear, and you can't help but smile as you look at yourself holding it up against your body.

You take a quick nap, having not slept much the past few days. Then you shower, dry and style your hair into a voluminous top knot with face-framing pieces tumbling lose from it, and apply your make-up. Because this is a formal black-tie event, you decide to hone in on your make-up artist skills and actually do a full face of make-up for yourself, which you practically never do. You go heavy on your eyes, going with a sexy smoky look, apply an extra coat of mascara and wing your eyeliner just a bit. You finish it off with shiny cherry red lips to balance it all out. Slipping the dress off its velvet hanger, you pull it up your body and lace up the ties behind your back. It does prove to be a little difficult, but you manage it. It fits perfectly, hugging all your curves in all the right places. Richard really does have an eye for fashion, or at least his stylist or whoever picked out this dress does. You gaze at yourself in the mirror and are almost completely satisfied. But something is missing, jewelry and shoes. Going back to the garment bag, you see a small square Tiffany's box sitting at the bottom, along with some Jimmy Choo nude strappy heels. Opening the box, your breath catches as your eyes wander over the necklace and earring set nestled amongst the white velvet lining. The necklace is just wider than a choker and filled with dozens of imperial topazes, dazzling stones that are a brilliant golden-orange pink hue. The only reason you know what they are is from a small description card that accompanies the jewelry. Intermittently set amongst the topazes are several large round clear stones. Diamonds?? The earrings are about three inches long and match the necklace perfectly. The shining jewels remind you of...something. With shaky fingers, you remove the necklace and hook it around your neck, then slip the earrings into your ears. Surely this exquisite jewelry is just on loan? Regardless, you feel a new sense of anxiety about wearing them outside this hotel room. You sit in the chair to fasten the heels around your feet, and then stand to take once last look at yourself in the mirror. Not too shabby if you do say so yourself. Feeling pretty good about your appearance, you grab the small navy handbag that matches the dress, retrieve George's card and give him a call that you are ready. You then carefully make your way to the elevators and downstairs to the waiting car. Since you're not accustomed to dressing up like this, you take special care in holding the dress up as you walk as to not step on it with your heels, and occasionally finger the jewelry at your neck and ears to make sure they're still in place.

As George drives you to the historic Metropolitan Museum of Art, you can't help but feel slightly exhilarated at imagining Taron's reaction to seeing you like this. After all, he's never seen you this dolled up before. The closest you've come to looking this nice was the night at the Troubadour. Of course, remembering the outcome of that night brings you back down to earth and you immediately chastise yourself for thinking of Taron's reaction when that's the last thing you should be thinking about. You really wish you were arriving with Richard to help ease your nerves; he has such a calming effect on you, the complete opposite of Taron.

When you finally pull up to the Met and George opens the car door for you, you step out into a scene that is one you would only expect to see in the movies. There are people everywhere. Men and women in black tie and evening gowns taking pictures with flash bulbs going off in every direction. Men holding up black umbrellas for reasons unknown to you since there's not a cloud in the sky. People shouting out names of the elite to get the attention of their next intended photo op. An immaculate lush pink carpet surrounded by white gauzy curtains that leads from the street all the way up the impressive flight of stairs to the Museum entrance. Thousands of the most beautiful shades of pink roses with an accompanying aroma that hits you almost immediately. Celebrities of every type wearing the most outlandish outfits you've ever seen. Women in big poofy dresses in all different colors that drag the ground behind them for several feet. Men in glittery colorful tuxedos escorting the beautiful women accompanying them. Those same celebrities stopping on the velvety carpet and stairs to linger in various poses for the photographers. You think you even spot a woman with what looks like a chandelier on her head?! Outfits so over-the-top outrageous that you have a difficult time taking it all in. You look quickly down at your own attire and feel so ridiculously underdressed now that it's laughable.

So apparently this is what "Camp" is. You knew it was going to be crazy but you weren't quite prepared for this. To say you are overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year and you can't believe Richard would leave you to arrive here alone. Maybe it would be better to just wait in the car until he gets here. As that thought hits you and you attempt to turn around and retreat back into the safety of the vehicle, you feel a warm hand on your arm. You fully expect to see Richard standing there, or some big wig saying you don't belong here, which of course would be true. Instead you find a familiar pair of warm gold-green eyes staring back at you, and a smile that has the power to make your heart explode.


	11. The Met Gala

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Met Gala is full of surprises.

"Taron?" You gasp. You of course knew he was going to be here, but seeing him here in front of you after just witnessing this overwhelmingly grandiose display has you finding the need to catch your breath.

"My God", he rasps, as his eyes sweep up and down your body. "You look absolutely gorgeous." You can't help the small smile that stretches across your lips and the flush you feel creeping up your neck. "And that jewelry, it's perfect", he says eyeing it with a grin. You automatically place your fingers against the necklace at your collarbone and sigh in relief that it's still in place.

"Thank you", you say shyly. "Do you know where Richard is?" You ask, remembering that it's him you are supposed to be meeting.

"He got held up with an interview so he asked me to meet you here", he states and you look over his shoulder not quite believing him.

"Wait? What? He didn't tell me anything about it", you say, still thoroughly confused and slightly annoyed. Taron just shrugs his shoulders, and it's at this moment that you pry your mind away from your discomfort long enough to take in his appearance. He's wearing a black tuxedo jacket with hundreds of shiny silver and black tubular beads placed all over it. Underneath is a crisp white pleated shirt which is topped off with a black shoestring bowtie. It occurs to you that this is the first time you've ever seen him so dressed up and he is nothing short of stunning. You are also relieved that his ensemble is quite normal compared to everyone else you've seen so far, and it makes you feel slightly better about your own look. Realizing you are overtly staring, you take a moment to subtly control your breathing before you speak again. "So is he coming? Why didn't he call me?" You are trying to hide the desperation in your voice, but unfortunately you don't think you're very successful. You are already nervous enough as it is and walking into this madness with Taron will only add to it.

"I don't know love, I'm just following orders", he says as he offers his arm. "Shall we?" You swallow as you look from his pro-offered arm to the grand stairs ahead of you and then back to him. Turning, you see that George is gone, so seeing that it's too late to back out now and you don't want to go in by yourself, you sigh and succumb to your current situation. Taking his arm gently, you force a smile and let him lead you toward the massive building. As you get closer and the sounds become louder and the sights more formidable, you feel the familiar sensation of panic taking over.

"Taron?" You say apprehensively.

"Yes?" He responds, looking over at you as he continues to guide you forward.

"I don't think I can do this...", you say as the tightness begins to form in your chest. He stops just short of the bottom step and turns toward you. Taking both your hands in his, he looks intensely into your eyes.

"Yes you can. You are amazing. You can do anything you want." When he still sees the angst on your face he adds, "Do you trust me?" He gives your hands a little squeeze, and you know in that moment that you do.

"Yes."

"Then trust me when I tell you I know you, and I know you can do this." You look up into his mesmerizing eyes, and the way the late afternoon sun is hitting them almost gives them an other-worldly glow. He releases one of your hands to lift his to your face and presses his index finger to the tip of your nose. The personal intimate gesture, his eyes boring into yours and the warmth radiating from his hand finally cause the anxiety to melt away almost completely, and you smile at him as you feel a calmness wash over you. You take one last look at him, exhale the rest of the tension from your body and gaze up at the grand set of stairs just before taking his arm again. You gather up your skirt in preparation to ascend the stairs as he rests his hand over yours and beams at you. "That's my girl."

The long walk up the pink velvet lined stairs is slow and deliberate, and you almost feel like Cinderella being escorted to the ball. Silly yes, but there's just something about the way you are dressed and walking up these never-ending stairs with the most beautiful man you've ever seen by your side, that transports you to a fantasy world of sorts. Does that make Taron your Prince Charming? You laugh to yourself at that thought. What even is your life?

Once you've finally reached the top, the yelling and flashing of bulbs seems to be coming from every direction. The elaborate rose-covered greenery lines either side of the lush pink carpet, guiding the celebrities and the like down the pathway for the various photo calls. You can now clearly see the women and men in their over-the-top get-ups stopping and posing for the cameras. You may be feeling confident enough now to walk into this place, but getting your picture taken amongst these VIP's, especially with Taron, is where you draw the line. Heaven forbid someone sees a pic of the two of you together and gets the wrong idea. Releasing his arm, you stop and look pointedly at him. You're pretty sure you just heard someone shout his name amongst all the other names being called out for attention.

"I'll let you go on from here. I'm sure they want to get your picture. I'll find another way in." He looks disappointed but he doesn't argue. He looks over at the photographers with a slight look of apprehension himself, and then back to you.

"Ok, wait for me once you get in?" He asks.

"I think I'm ok now Taron. I'm a big girl", you reassure him with a smile.

"Who said it was for you?" He asks, adding a little wink.

You just shake your head at him and add, "Thank you, for walking with me."

"It was my absolute honor." Your gazes linger on each other for just a moment longer before you gather your dress to walk as far away from the cameras as you can get. When you are about ten feet away, you glance back over at him to see him still watching you. When he sees that he's been caught, he smiles sheepishly, then makes his way toward the waiting photographers. You stand and watch him for just a moment as he poses somewhat awkwardly and smiles gently at them. Maybe you're not the only one who gets a bit anxious at this type of thing. As you make your way around the main entrance, you see a smaller entryway where more "normal" looking people are entering. They still look fabulous, but just quite a bit toned down. This feels more like your speed so you approach the entrance and try to blend in with everyone else. Once inside, the scene takes your breath away once again. If you thought the outside was something to behold, the inside is a completely different story. The first thing that hits you is that the entire interior of the building feels as though it's been bathed in a pink glow. Your attention is immediately drawn to the middle of the room where a towering display of enormous flamingos stand in a circle facing each other, and sit atop thousands more of the brilliantly hued roses. Your eyes travel from the bottom all the way to the top where they stayed glued to the gigantic pink birds. Finally pulling your attention away from them, you scan the room again to see a long white cloth covered table where several women are sitting. People entering are going up to them first as if they don't even notice the exquisite display of pink, so you follow suit.

When you are next in line, you step forward and not knowing what else to say, you mutter quietly, "Hello. I'm a guest of Richard Madden?" to the woman sitting in front of you. She scans a paper list in front of her then speaks after flipping a few pages.

"Ahh yes. Very good. You are at table 43 my dear", she says with a tight smile. "Feel free to explore the exhibits and then make your way into the dining room." You thank her then move away, wondering what you should do next. Not really wanting to wander around the exhibition alone, you follow some of the other party go-ers toward the dining room and gaze in awe at the massive flamingos once more as you pass them. You then find yourself entering a grand ballroom with hundreds of tables and chairs placed perfectly around it. The tables, some rectangular and some circular, are all decked out with pink tablecloths, pink feathered lamps, bamboo silverware and more roses and tropical flowers in colorful vases. There are even flamingo napkins and chair covers and you wonder briefly what flamingos have to do with "camp", as you amble around the room trying to locate table 43. Finally spying it from across another table, you make your way toward it and are relieved to see you are not the first to arrive at your assigned table. You scan the place settings and spot one with a little folded card that says "Richard Madden". Right next to that is one that says "Mr. Madden Guest". That must be you, so you take a deep breath and pull the chair out to sit, ready to greet your fellow table companions. There are only three other guests at your round table that seats eleven, but none of them are anyone you recognize.

"Hello", you address them bravely, and all three pairs of eyes shoot in your direction. They appraise you quickly, and then smile as they each greet you in turn. You are happy that they make pleasant small talk with you for a few minutes until a waiter arrives asking everyone if they'd prefer red or white wine. Quickly deciding that the evening might be much more relaxing if you were to partake in some spirits, you tell the waiter red when he comes to you, and then he promptly pours you a glass. By the time the wine orders have been dispersed, one of the three table companions has left and the other two are now engrossed in conversation with each other, debating over the latest fashion trend and what the "it" color of the fall season will be. Since you have very little interest in fashion, you take the opportunity to let your eyes roam over the grand room, taking in more pink and more flamingos. Your eyes land on a table about five or six tables away and you see Taron conversing with a younger man as he stands in front of his supposed table. He seems to sense your eyes on him and turns slightly in your direction, giving you a little nod with his head. You raise your wine glass in response and give him a crooked little smile. He smiles back then turns his attention back to the man. You may be crazy, but you seem to already be feeling the effects of the wine as you are now almost completely at ease with the current situation, and quite content to sit here and observe what is arguably the best people-watching event you will ever encounter. Moments later, you feel a hand on your shoulder and look up to see Richard standing behind you beaming. "Well hello", you say just a bit sardonically.

"Hello, my apologies for being tardy", he says. He looks dashing as always in a striking black tux.

"It's ok, I found my way in", you say bluntly, taking another sip of your almost empty wine glass.

"I can see that", he says eyeing you. "Ok, stand up, let me get a look of that dress", he says as he takes your hand to help you rise. You take his hand and do as he asks, actually reveling in the chance to show yourself off. The wine must be getting to your head. He holds your hand high as you twirl slowly under his arm to make sure he gets a good look at the back. Once you've faced him again, he does a quick once over and you see a slight sparkle in his blue eyes. "It's absolutely perfect on you" he says, placing two quick pecks on your cheeks.

"Thank you, you look nice too. And I guess you're forgiven", you add, teasing. You glance over his shoulder to where Taron is now standing alone, and find that he is watching you with a look on his face that you can't quite place. If you didn't know better, you'd think it was jealousy.

"Whew!" Richard says in mock relief, drawing your attention back to him. "Those jewels are stunning. Where did you get them?" He asks, eyeing the gems at your throat. You frown in confusion.

"You sent them to me...right? Along with the dress and shoes." His eyebrows pull together in puzzlement, but then a look of understanding comes over his features almost just as quickly.

"Oh yes, right! I guess I forgot, with everything else going on. Shall we sit?" He says, sweeping your chair out for you and effectively avoiding the subject. You eye him warily, but decide to let it go and sit. The waiter comes to refill your glass and to offer Richard one, then you turn to him after the waiter has left you alone again.

"So...you sent Taron to babysit me huh?" The alcohol buzzing in your system seems to have left you with not much of a filter. Richard nearly chokes on the sip he's just taken.

"What?" He croaks out as he dabs the corner of his mouth with a ridiculous cloth napkin embroidered with a flamingo. You just raise your eyebrows at him. "Well, I was running late and I knew you would rather go back to the hotel than walk in alone, so yeah, I called him and asked if he would escort you in. He was happy to do it", he explains and it bugs you slightly that he knows you so well.

"Hmm...are you sure you didn't set this whole thing up? It wouldn't be the first time...", you say, thinking back to that time on the set of Rocketman with the letter.

"Who me?" He says in feigned surprise pressing his hand to his chest and laughing. You narrow your eyes at him and he stops. "I swear to you, this was not a set up. I think I know better now. I really was running late, promise", he says, making a crossing motion over his heart. For some reason, you believe him.

As you've been chatting with Richard, the majority of the rest of your table has filled up. You feel a renewed sense of confidence, probably from the wine, so you introduce yourself to your table-mate on your left and strike up a conversation with her as Richard does the same with the guest on his right. You discover that she's also in fashion and you wonder briefly how the seating arrangements were made. In talking with her, you realize just how coveted these tickets really are and you feel somewhat honored that both Taron and Richard had invited you along.

Throughout the evening, you help yourself to several glasses of wine and a delicious dinner of what you would call "frou frou" food. It consists of a horseradish beef dish with tomatoes, beans, carrots and edible orange flowers, all served by waiters wearing white jackets with green carnations. Followed by a dessert of cookies, decorated with flamingos of course, and a rich chocolate cake. Just when you think the evening can't get any more spectacular, the guests are surprised by a performance from none other than Cher herself, and to say you are amazed would be an understatement. All of it has you feeling almost part of the elite, and you're so glad you agreed to come. You laugh and talk freely with Richard and your table-mates, and you can't remember when you last had such an enjoyable time. There is even talk of an after-party to keep the festivities going at The Standard Hotel which sounds quite intriguing. Through it all, you notice Taron catching little glances of you, and it's obvious you are stealing glances as well, but at this point, you don't care. You're feeling too good.

After the meal, everyone starts to leave the table to either mingle with fellow guests, take in the exhibits, or leave for the after-parties. You feel a little unsteady on your feet as the several glasses of wine apparently went straight to your head, and you reach out to Richard for balance.

"You ok?" He asks, grabbing your waist to make sure you don't fall.

"Mmm hmm", you murmur and stifle a hiccup. Geez, when did you become such a lightweight? At that moment, Taron saunters over to the two of you and his eyes immediately drop to your hand on Richard's arm and his hand around your waist.

"Hey", he says a little hesitantly. "That was really incredible huh?" He asks, gesturing toward the stage where Cher just performed.

"Fantasssstic", you slur then suppress a giggle.

"You ok?" Taron asks, repeating Richard's question from only moments ago. You sure wish everyone would stop treating you like a porcelain doll.

"I'm fine", you say, abruptly removing your hand from Richard and start to walk away. Richard grabs your elbow to stop you.

"Wait, hold on love. Maybe you shouldn't go wandering around in your current condition", he says, concern in his piercing blue eyes. You look between them both and see that Taron's eyes match the look in Richard's.

"Geez you two, I'm a grown womannn", you whine, drawing out the last word which makes you giggle again and you see the two of them trade glances. "So are we going to this party or what?"

"I'm game if you are", Richard agrees, smiling and swaying a bit himself as he moves toward you. Perhaps you're not the only one who over-indulged on the wine. "T, you in?" He asks turning toward Taron.

"Umm yeah, sure", he says, looking between you and Richard with a hard expression between his eyes.

"Great, we'll see you there", he says over his shoulder as he ushers you away from the table. You turn to look over your shoulder at Taron who is watching as you walk away. The look on his face gives you an odd feeling and again, you can't quite place it. As you and Richard follow the swarms of people making their exit, you suddenly realize that your head isn't the only place the wine has gone to.

"Umm Rich?"

"Yeah?"

"I umm, need to use the facilities before we leave", you say, looking around for your intended need.

"Oh, ok. There's one right over there", he says pointing off to the left. You follow his eyes and then leave him to clumsily find your way over to it. Once inside the massive restroom, you are met with a mass of several women re-applying make-up in front of an over-crowded mirror, chatting excitedly and even taking a few selfies. You mumble a few "excuse me's" as you push your way through them and find an empty stall. After relieving yourself with some difficulty from the overly large skirt of your dress and the small problem of maintaining your balance, you squeeze between the women once again to wash your hands, then get out of there as quickly as possible. Stepping out, you scan the people nearby to relocate Richard, but you don't see him anywhere in sight. You jump slightly when you feel a warm hand grasp your arm and pull you into a side hallway next to the restroom. You assume it's Richard that's found you, but once you've regained your composure, you focus onto a familiar pair of soft green eyes in front of you. However, they look anything but soft at the moment, they look...angry.

"Taron? What the??" You mumble almost incoherently.

"I don't want you going to that party", he says, and you're sure you didn't hear him correctly.

"Wait. What?" You say, trying to focus on his face which is a bit blurred at the moment. You also notice that his hand is still firmly gripping your upper arm.

"You shouldn't go to the party. You're drunk and who knows what's going to be happening there. It's not a good idea."

"Excuse me?" You say laughing slightly. "It sounds like you just told me not to go to the party?"

"That's exactly what I said", he says, grounded in his stance. You laugh again, louder now but his face and hand don't budge.

"Oh that's hilarious Taron. You actually think you can tell me what to do. That's really cute." Your tone is jovial, albeit sarcastic, but nothing about this is remotely funny. Even in your drunken state you can see that. He sighs in exasperation.

"I've been to parties like this. I've seen what goes on. I just don't think it's a good idea for you to go", he says a little more gently now, but it does nothing to sway you.

"Oh?" You say, challenging him. "What are you going to do about it?" You ask, leaning closer to him and flicking his tiny bowtie with your finger. Your reflexes are slow and you don't have time to remove your hand before he grabs your wrist and pins you against the wall. You exhale a sharp breath from the sudden unexpected movement and feel your belly do flip flop. Taron's face is inches from yours and you can feel his slightly ragged breath on your skin. His body is flush against your own and the warmth seeping into your body makes your already spinning head even more light-headed. His eyes are dark and brooding and they flick to your lips briefly before penetrating your eyes once more. You can't tell if he's angry or aroused or both. The lines of his face become blurry again and you feel your knees start to go weak so you close your eyes waiting, for what you don't really know. A few tense seconds pass as you feel his little puffs of breath against your face and his hold on you loosen. Opening your eyes, you see that his eyes are now closed and there are two etched lines between his brows as if he's concentrating deeply on something. Finally, his eyes flutter open as he releases you and takes a few steps back, a look of regret passing over his features. You let out the breath you were holding and are just about to speak when you hear Richard's voice.

"There you are, I've got the car. You ready?" He says to you, then glances over at Taron as if he's just now noticing him there. Had he witnessed the exchange that just happened between you? You nod your head and mumble an affirmation as you step around Taron. "T, you want to ride with us mate?" Taron clears his throat before speaking quietly.

"No, I'll see you there", he answers blandly, eyes still trained on you.

"Ok", Richard says, apparently oblivious to the palpable tension in the air. You then take his arm which he offers to you, much like Taron had a few hours earlier, and leave the latter standing there as you wonder mildly what the hell just happened.


	12. The After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Richard attend the Met Gala after party.

"Everything ok back there?" Richard asks after you both are settled into the backseat of the dark SUV and riding to the hotel where the after party is being held. You are deep in thought, staring out the window, trying to figure out what just happened. It wasn't like Taron to be so...possessive, and you're not sure what had prompted it. You all probably had a little too much wine at the gala, but still, that's not really an excuse for his behavior. What bothers you even more, is that in a sick sort of way, you kind of liked it. Not enough to heed his warning of course, but there was something strangely exciting about him ordering you not to do something. Almost as if you were in a relationship with him, which even if that were the case, would still be unacceptable. Even so, it made you feel like you belonged to him, and there was a time where you would've given anything to be his. Maybe you still would. You realize that feeling this way is of course ridiculous, so you chalk it up to the libations you partook of and the exhilaration of the gala, knowing that if you were in your right mind, you would be furious at his behavior. "Hey", Richard prompts, touching your arm lightly and you snap yourself out of your thoughts, looking over at him.

"Hmm?" You say, now oblivious to whatever it was he just asked. He chuckles at you.

"I asked if everything was ok, back there?" He says, gesturing with his thumb back toward the direction of the museum which is now out of sight.

"Oh, yeah...fine", you lie. No point in explaining to him that Taron had all but ordered you not to go to the after party and you were slightly turned on by it. You close your eyes and take a deep breath at the memory of his body so close. Why does he still have this power over you?

"Ok, good. So, did you have fun at the gala?" He asks, changing the subject which you're thankful for.

"Oh yes. It was amazing. So much more fun than I thought it would be." He smiles and it now occurs to you that you haven't properly thanked him for the invitation. "Rich, thank you so much for tonight. The invite, the dress, the jewelry...all of it." His eyes flick to the jewels at your throat and you see him swallow and frown a bit, but you continue. "You were right, it really was just what I needed. So thank you again", you say sincerely and hope he knows how much you mean it.

"You're very welcome lass...but, I have a confession to make...", he trails off and your heart drops. What now?

"What?" You ask, feeling nervous about whatever he's about to confess.

"Well, it wasn't all me", he says, and you just stare at him in confusion.

"What do you mean?" You ask, searching his icy blues for some sort of answer. His eyes wander over your face, his eyebrows pulled together as if he's trying to ascertain just how to articulate what he's trying to say.

"I mean...I didn't..." He pauses. "The jewelry...", he stutters, looking at it again, "it's not from me." His eyes flick back up to yours, searching.

"Oh", you say, confused.

"Yeah, I wish I could take credit for it, but sadly I can't. I had actually completely forgotten about jewelry in the rush to um... make all the arrangements." His eyes bore into yours, almost as if he's trying to figure out if you believe him or not.

"Then who...", you trail off as you finger the jewels against your collarbone. Then your mind drifts to when Taron first saw you in front of the MET, and how he mentioned them specifically.

Richard continues to speak as your mind wanders. "You know what they remind me of though? That orange costume that T-" He stops abruptly and stares at you.

"Taron", you finish for him and he nods. You don't know how or why, but you are sure in this moment that Taron was the one who procured this glamorous jewelry for you to wear. Unfortunately there's no more time to think or speak about it however, because at that moment, the car has pulled up in front of The Standard Hotel and your car door is opening for you. You gather up your skirt and step out, and after thanking George, you let Richard guide you inside and through the lobby to the elevator. There are several more costumed party-goers waiting as well, and once the doors chime and open, you all pile in to ride up to the penthouse party. You feel the nerves creeping up again, but you figure if you can survive the fabulous Met Gala, you can survive anything. As soon as the elevator doors ding open, you are hit full force with a blast of music and the raucous sound of laughter and talking coming from beyond. Your eyes widen as you take in the scene of bodies packed tightly into the champagne colored overcrowded space, and the sight of even more outrageous costumes than before. You're pretty sure you didn't see some of these outfits earlier in the evening, so apparently some people found it necessary to actually change before this bash? This is definitely next level and once again, you feel ridiculously out of place. Richard leans close to you and practically yells in your ear to be heard over the noise.

"Shall we get some drinks?" You nod your head enthusiastically, feeling the buzz from earlier fading, and in desperate need of new liquid courage. He takes your hand and leads you toward the gold colored bar that seems to stretch the entire length of one side of the room, and pushes through the throngs of people to order drinks. You take the opportunity to glance around your surroundings and are admittedly a bit star struck to be noticing some rather familiar faces from the celebrities that are mere feet from you. Of course you saw them at the gala, but that was such a refined occasion and you were able to admire them from afar. Not like this where they are practically shoved in your face, acting as if it's perfectly normal to be hob-nobbing at a gilded bar dressed like a mermaid. You try to keep your eyes low and focus on not staring, and are thankful when Richard returns with your cocktails. You hastily swig yours and then hold it out to him, indicating you'd like another. He obliges and after you've had your second drink and are feeling a bit more relaxed, you make your way to the make-shift dance floor with him to clumsily parade around it. Your nerves slowly start to melt away and you find yourself having the best time as you dance, laugh and chat with Richard, and even a few people you don't know. The highlight of the evening is when a birthday cake is presented to THE Donatella Versace, not to be outdone by Katy Perry showing up in a hamburger costume to which you and Richard can't stop laughing about. You even have fun by yourself, swaying to the pumping music and laughing with your fellow dance floor companions, when he leaves you alone to socialize and take a few photos with fellow actors and performers. As the evening progresses and you make your way around the room, you do happen to observe some questionable activities going on and you have to wonder if this is what Taron didn't want you exposed to. It's nothing you can't handle though, and you are slightly annoyed once again at how he always seems to treat you like a child.

The rest of the evening is filled with mingling amongst the elite, an abundance of drinking, impromptu performances atop the massive gold bar and general merriment had by all. Well, almost all. All throughout the night, you catch glimpses of Taron standing on the outskirts of the dance floor or loitering around the bar, and he looks absolutely miserable. Except for when you discreetly watch him from about ten feet away as he enjoys one of the over-the-top productions on top of the bar with a drink in his hand. He actually seems to be having quite a good time at that moment, and you can't help but wish you were by his side enjoying it with him. The only thing that would've made this night better is if there wasn't the awkward tension between you and Taron, and realizing that makes you a little sad. However, you're not sure how you will ever forget this incredible night, and you wouldn't want to. As midnight rolls around, and hamburgers and fries arrive to be devoured by the famished guests, your stomach starts to roll with all of the alcohol you've ingested in the last few hours. Looking over at Richard as the greasy fast food is being passed around, you notice that he looks in much the same way, his face almost turning a distinct shade of green.

"Want to get some air?" You ask him loudly over the noise. His head bobs up and down with wide eyes. You both press your way though the crowd, and it's like coming up from underwater when you finally escape the mass. Once down the elevator and on the main level of the hotel, you are already feeling better and looking forward to the crisp spring air waiting just outside the lobby doors. Pushing though the revolving doors, you exhale loudly and gasp as the euphoria of the night hits you. You are still admittedly quite drunk, but at least the churning in your stomach has ceased. Richard smiles over at you in relief and you can see that he must be feeling better as well.

"Wow, what a night!" He exclaims happily and you slap him on the shoulder in agreement.

"Yes! Crazy, but so fun!" You say, laughing. "Although, I should probably get back to my hotel, before I get sick and ruin my dress."

"Ahh yes, wouldn't want to ruin that dress, that's for sure", he agrees. "Hmm. I think our car is over here in the car park somewhere", he says, looking perplexed and stumbling in that general direction. You follow him absent-mindedly through the darkened parking lot and after ambling around several identical looking cars, he finally seems to locate the correct one. He bends down and cups his hands to his face, peering through the drivers side window. "Hmm, he's not in there. I'll just give him a ring", he says pulling out his phone and shakily pushing buttons. Meanwhile, you feel the need to sit down, so you try the backseat door handle and surprisingly it opens. Sliding inside, you leave the door open for him to follow. You then hear his voice slurring from outside the vehicle. "Hey! Where'd you go?" You giggle at him before answering.

"In here silly!" He pokes his head in and then clambers inside, just barely hitting his head on the outside of the car. You figure he's about the same height as Taron, although tonight, he seems somewhat taller. Maybe it's his shoes. He closes the door behind him then turns to you.

"Ok, I called him. He said he'll be here in fifteen minutes", he says, holding up his hands with all ten digits extended upward. You giggle again.

"That's not fifteen, that's ten", you say pointing to his hands and he looks confused. You hold up one of your own hands with five fingers extended and place it against his open palm. "This is fifteen." He looks lazily at your two hands, then clasps his fingers around yours, interlocking them together.

"Oh yeah...", he mutters. Both your hands drop to the seat, still intertwined. You are slightly slumped against the bench seat back that stretches the length of the car, and Richard has his head resting against his side of the seat. You look up at him and let your eyes wander over his face. He really is an attractive man. You've always known this of course, but it's been a long time since you've seen him this close up. It's dark out here in the parking lot, with only the dim light of a nearby street lamp casting a blueish glow inside the vehicle, but you can still make out the sharp angles of his face.

"Wow, Taron was right. You really do have fluffy pillow lips", you state.

"Beg pardon?" He mumbles in his Scottish drawl.

"Big fluffy pillow lips", you repeat. "You really do", you say, staring at them.

"Weird, that's exactly what he said to me during carpool karaoke", he says, eyebrows scrunched together and looking off into the distance as if recalling a memory that you know nothing about.

"During what??" You asked, dumbfounded.

"Nevermind", he answers and you shrug your shoulders, already thinking of something else.

"So what was it like making out with Taron?" You ask, thinking back to their love scene in the film and apparently saying out loud whatever happens to pop into your head.

"What?" He says in a shocked tone, looking over at you like you're insane. But you just continue to stare up at him, raising your eyebrows and waiting for an answer. "I would think you already know", he says sarcastically.

"Yeah, I just wanted to know what it was like from your perspective." You've never thought much about two men being together physically, but with Richard and Taron, it somehow sounds quite intriguing. Somewhere in your mind's eye, you can see that you're going to be embarrassed by this line of questioning later on, but you really are curious. "Please?" You encourage, and give him your best doe eyed look. He gazes into your eyes for a moment before answering.

"Well, nice enough I guess. He's a decent kisser", he says, his eyes dropping to your lips. You can't really argue there. "Although, he's not really my type...", he adds.

"Yeah...", you say dreamily, but don't question him further. You do however notice that his eyes are still darting around your mouth, and you wonder briefly if he's still thinking about his scene with Taron or if his mind has drifted elsewhere. You're not sure what causes you to do it, although undoubtedly it has something to do with how much alcohol is in your system, but you reach up with your free hand and run your fingers over his lips. His breath hitches slightly when your skin makes contact with his. His lips really are amazingly soft. He stays perfectly still, watching you intently, his eyes going slightly dark. Since he makes no move to stop you, you run your hand down over his chin to his stubbly cheek and cup his jaw. His eyes are glued onto yours, studying you, waiting for your next move. Without thinking, you pull his jaw closer to your face until he's only millimeters from your lips. With one more quick glance up into his eyes, you close your own and press your lips softly to his. His lips are still and unmoving, most likely in shock at your behavior. You might be shocked yourself if you weren't so inebriated. You move your lips slightly against his, and it's like the movement stirs him into action and he pulls away from you gently. His eyes search yours in question, but you don't give up that easily. Grasping his jaw a little more firmly this time, you pull him back to you and smash your lips against his again. You feel his jaw stiffen under your hand, but you are unwavering as you continue to move your lips against his, urging him on. Luckily it doesn't take much, and after a few seconds, you feel him respond to your advances and his lips part slightly. You take that as a sign to deepen the kiss and tilt your head to gain better access. You are rewarded with a slight groan from him as he wraps his free hand around your waist, pulling you closer to him. The hand that was clasped with yours, comes up to the back of your head to hold you in place. Your hands go around the back of his head to twist into the loose dark curls at his nape. 

You're not sure if it's the booze or the intensity of the night you just had, or the smell of the leather seats or the familiarity of the situation, but you are suddenly transported back to that night outside the Troubadour, and it's Taron you are now kissing. It's Taron's mouth that is moving in tandem with yours. Taron's hands that are gripping your waist so tightly. Taron that is moving over you to envelope you with his body. Taron's lips that are now working their way across your jaw, down your neck and over your collarbone. Taron's name who you can't help but moan out loud, breaking the deafening silence. "TARON..." Hearing his name on your lips brings you swiftly out of your fantasy world and you are immediately horrified. Fuck. You feel Richard's whole body still and you are both frozen in the moment. You slowly open your eyes as he pulls his head away from your throat and gapes at you. You release his head and clap your hand over your mouth. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry", you say with a muffled voice through your fingers. It takes a few seconds, but his features finally relax and he sighs heavily as he releases you and collapses back onto his side of the car, slapping his own hand over his forehead. Shit, what have you done? "Richard, please don't hate me. I'm so sorry. I'm drunk. I didn't know what I was doing. I-" All your words are coming out in a slurred flurry of panic, but he stops you by putting his hand on your arm.

"It's ok. It's my fault..."

"What? No. I kissed you..."

"Yes, but I didn't have to kiss you back", he says, exhaling deeply. "I know you're not over him. I shouldn't have given in." You collapse back onto your seat and cover your face with your hands.

"I've fucked everything up. What the hell is wrong with me?" You whine through your fingers, too embarrassed to face him. He pulls your hands away and peers over at you.

"You haven't fucked anything up. It's just, this night", he exclaims, throwing his hands into the air. "We both had too much to drink and just got carried away. It's fine, I promise", he assures you.

"Really? You're not upset?" He laughs a little and you just stare at him, confused to say the least.

"No, not at all. I know you don't think of me in that way. I know you don't have feelings for me", he says, and another thought pops into your head.

"Wait, you don't...have feelings for me, right?" You are suddenly terrified that you could've possibly ruined your friendship by doing something so incredibly stupid like leading him on. He chuckles and leans back onto his seat.

"No. Only that I consider you a really good friend and wouldn't want to do anything to screw that up", he says and you are relieved, although slightly self-conscience. "Not that I don't find you attractive, you're just not really my type", he adds as if reading your mind, and you cock your head at him.

"Oh? What is your type then? If it's not me and not Taron", you say, trying to lighten the mood.

"Well, for starters, definitely someone that can pull off walking into an A-list New York party in a hamburger costume", he says as serious as anything, giving you a deadpan stare. You stare back at him for a moment, then snort and you both burst out laughing.

Exhaling and clutching your side from the discomfort of laughing so hard you say, "Oh Richard, I love you... as a friend", you are quick to clarify. The relief you feel washing over you is like a healing balm and you feel yourself starting to relax again.

"Love you too kid", he responds, and you smile feeling grateful to have him in your life. "But, we should probably get out of this car, before anything else weird happens", he says, looking at you pointedly.

"You're probably right", you agree, and start to scoot your way over as he opens the door. He stumbles on his way out and for some reason you find this funny. You start laughing again as you gather up your dress to try and get out as gracefully as possible. As you do, you realize why he has stumbled when you see his foot is caught on the skirt of your dress. You try and yank it out but this only causes him to loose his footing even more.

"Richard, your foot is on my dress", you mumble through your giggling and he laughs along with you.

"Oh, sorry", you hear him mutter back as you both try and readjust your positioning. Finally you are able to exit the car; but in trying to gather up your dress, releasing it from beneath Richard's shoe and the overall intoxication you are still feeling, you tumble out in a jumbled mess and fall into Richard who is standing immobile just outside the car. His body has gone rather rigid as he stands there, but you barely notice as you are concentrating on regaining your footing. Once you've gotten your bearings and are able to release him to stand on your own, you look at his face to find him wide-eyed and staring straight ahead. His face has gone pale and he literally looks like he's seen a ghost.

"What?" You mumble, and then follow his gaze to see Taron standing not ten feet away, staring back at you. His eyes are on yours as you are the one creating the most movement at the time, but as your body goes still, his eyes shift over to Richard. You look over at him standing next to you, and are shocked and mortified to see your cherry rid lipstick smeared all over his chiseled face. Shit. Apparently you hadn't noticed it in the darkness of the vehicle, but out here in the light of the street lamps and the moon high in the sky, it's as clear as day. And leaves little to the imagination as to what has just occurred. Your heart starts beating rapidly as Richard turns to look at you, eyes still in disbelief, and you discreetly wipe at your mouth to indicate he needs to do the same.

He pulls out a handkerchief from inside his jacket pocket and wipes feebly at his mouth, then turns back to Taron and says, "T...mate." The look Taron shoots him shuts him up quick and he doesn't finish. Taron says nothing so it goes quiet again, and after a few seconds of an intense stare-down between the three of you, you decide to be the one to break it. After all, you have nothing to be ashamed of, right? You don't owe anyone an explanation regarding your actions, especially not Taron. So, you clear your throat and square your shoulders before walking toward him in the direction of the hotel lobby. With your head held high, you brush right past him without saying a word, leaving Richard there to deal with him and without looking back.


	13. After the After Party

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get a little surprise in your hotel room.

You are instantly sober as you continue to stomp off in the direction of the hotel lobby, not exactly sure what your plan is other than to get away from the two of them as quickly as possible. However, within minutes of you walking past Taron, you hear the gravel crunch behind you as one of them, you're unsure which, is undoubtedly following you. You really don't want to face either one of them right now, as your humiliation from the scene that occurred only moments ago has you feeling the need to just be alone. Whoever it is has caught up with you quickly, and as he places a hand on your shoulder, you know immediately that it's not Taron. You're not sure how you know, but you just do and admittedly you're relieved. Richard is definitely the lesser of two evils at the moment, and he turns you around to face him while he catches his breath.

"Where are you going lass? The driver will be here any moment", he says, huffing slightly with the exertion of catching up to you.

"Sorry Rich, I couldn't wait there anymore. I'll just call my driver", you say, remembering George and proceed to dig around in your bag for his card. He watches you as you retrieve your cell phone as well, dial his number and wait a few seconds for him to pick up. After informing him that you are ready to leave and giving him your whereabouts, you push everything back down into your bag and walk back to a bench near the front entrance and slump down onto it. Richard follows you silently and sits down next to you. "I can't believe it", you say after a few moments of staring out at the empty space in front of you. "He saw us... He knows..."

"There's nothing to know love", he says, his voice sounding tired. You turn your head lazily over to him.

"He saw the lipstick Rich, he KNOWS", you emphasize, resigning. He swallows and looks away.

"Yeah, who cares? You and I worked it out. We're fine. Doesn't matter what he knows or thinks, right?" You of course know that he is in fact right. It's been almost two months since you found out about Taron's girlfriend and you've barely had any contact with him since then. He can think whatever he wants to think. It's time to move on. But this is not just about you, there's also their friendship to consider.

"But what about you? I don't want to cause weirdness between you and Taron."

"I'm sure we'll be fine", he assures you but you're still worried. At that moment, George pulls up directly in front of you and you stand to walk the few steps to the car with Richard trailing beside you. He holds the door open and holds your skirt for you while you step inside. Once you are settled, he leans in slightly to address you one last time before you depart for your hotel. "Try and not worry about it too much. Let me know when you get there so I know you made it safely", he adds, looking as worn out as you feel.

"Will do, thanks Rich." With that, he gives a little nod then closes the door and George takes off. You sigh in relief to finally be by yourself, alone with your thoughts so that you can do exactly what Richard just told you not to do. You honestly can't believe this night and that any of it actually happened. It was all so surreal and feels like a dream. First, there was the amazingly elegant Met Gala, arguably a once in a lifetime event. Then there was Taron trying to coerce you into not going to the after party for whatever reason, and putting you in a situation that made you equally offended and aroused. Then attending said after party where even more glamorous and unbelievable events took place. All capped off by you stupidly kissing Richard in the backseat of a car, and Taron catching you in the act. If things weren't weird between you and Taron before, they certainly will be downright bizarre now. And what about his friendship with Richard? You know he said they would be fine, but you can't help worrying that you might have caused unnecessary problems between them. You close your eyes and rest your head against the back of the seat, wondering if there's anything you can do to fix this. You're definitely not reaching out to Taron however, as that would undoubtedly just cause more tension. A few minutes later, George is pulling up in front of your own hotel and you are grateful to be able to finally put this night behind you. Dragging yourself out of the car and into the lobby, you clumsily push the elevator button and wait for it to arrive. The hotel is a ghost town at this late hour, and you're thankful that you don't have to interact with any more people for tonight.

Once inside your room, you whip out your phone to type a quick text to Richard.

You: I'm here, I'm safe. Thanks again for a great night. Sorry it got weird at the end.

After hitting send and dropping your phone onto the bed, not bothering to wait for a reply, you toss your handbag onto the dresser and trudge across the floor to the huge picture window overlooking the city. It was here only hours ago that you were so full of excitement and hope for the night to come. Now all you feel is despair and worry. Why can't things ever just be normal? Oh right, because now you are suddenly hob-nobbing with celebrities and the like. Not having the energy to do anything else, you slump down in front of the window, letting your dress billow in a poof around you, and rest your forehead against the glass. The cool smooth surface feels good against your now throbbing head as you gaze out over the city. You wonder briefly where the few cars that you can see are headed. Are they coming and going from fabulous parties as well?

You're not sure how long you sit there, but eventually your feet start to go numb from the restrictive heels so you slip them off and toss them in a corner. Figuring it's probably pretty late, you decide you better change out of the rest of your get-up and go to bed. Standing on shaky legs, you reach around your neck to unclasp the delicate orange-pink colored stones resting there. You then pull the earrings out and gaze down at the beautiful jewels piled up in your palm. How in the world had Taron gotten these for you? And why? Shaking your head at that thought, you walk to the Tiffany box still lying on the bed where you dropped it, and place the jewelry carefully back into the pale blue interior. You then set it on the dresser next to your handbag and stare at it a few seconds longer. Catching a glimpse of your face in the bathroom mirror, you walk inside to get a closer look and feel the immediate urge to remove the rest of what's left of your make-up, including that damn red lipstick. Wetting and soaping a washcloth, you scrub at your face until it's all gone and your skin is left pink and tingly. Then, feeling suddenly consumed and suffocated by the dress, you release the spaghetti straps from around your shoulders, then go to work on the back. You awkwardly reach behind you to begin unlacing the complicated pattern of strings holding the mid-section of the dress to your body. Pulling on one end, you realize you can't find the other and assume it must be stuck. Great. It's at this moment you hear a soft knock at the door. Who the hell? It's got to be close to 2 am. As you drop your hands to your side in a huff, the bodice at your chest gapes open from the little you were able to loosen the dress. Holding it up by draping your arm across your breasts, you practically stomp to the door, annoyed with whoever is on the other side and knowing for sure you don't want to talk to them.

You look through the peephole first and groan when you see Taron standing there. You should've known. Apparently Richard told him where you were staying? What the hell does he want now? You open the door just a crack to peer out at him. He looks a little more worse for wear than he did an hour ago. His hair is ruffled as if he's been running his hands through it and his eyes look tired. He's discarded his microscopic tie and his shirt is unbuttoned several inches down. You catch a glimpse of his chest and smattering of chest hair, but you keep your eyes trained on his face as you address him.

"It's late, what do you want Taron?"

"We need to talk", he says as he pushes the door open wide and brushes past you.

"Ok...come on in", you say sarcastically to the now empty doorway. Closing the door behind you, you shuffle over to him, still holding your dress in place. You stop a few feet in front of him and stare over him, waiting. "Well?" You ask, impatiently.

"Were you...getting changed?" He asks as his eyes scan your body briefly.

"I WAS. But the ties on this stupid dress are in a knot." Figuring he might as well make himself useful you add, "Help me with them?" You saunter toward him and turn around once you are directly in front of him, your back facing him. You glance over your shoulder at him, waiting, but nothing happens for a moment. Then you feel warm fingers against the sensitive skin at your lower back as he deftly works the unrelenting straps, and you are annoyed at the electric feeling that buzzes through your body at his touch. Another few intense moments pass, then you finally feel the ties loosen and his hands disappear from your skin. "Thank you", you mumble as you turn back around to look him in the eyes, which now hold an intense brooding look. You hold each other's gaze for a second, then without thinking, you drop your arm that was holding the dress up and it falls in a heap to the floor. Taron sucks in a breath as you are left standing before him clad in only your bra and panties, and you watch as a familiar look passes over his eyes. It's a look of darkened heat that you've seen many times before and is usually a promise of good things to come. But not this time. You gaze at him intently, almost daring him to make a move. Almost...wanting him to. His eyes dance over your body hungrily, and his fingers twitch slightly, but his body remains still. The underwear reveals nothing more than a bathing suit would, but something about standing here before Taron in your lacy black underwear in a swanky New York hotel room at two in the morning is quite exhilarating. His eyes find yours again, then he finally looks away quickly and you notice a flush creeping up his cheeks. You scoff at him, then step over the dress to retrieve a white fluffy bathrobe from the closet you saw earlier. He is still standing in the same spot when you return, so you pass him and crawl up onto the bed, sitting cross-legged and folding the bottom of the robe around your legs. He turns around slowly to face you and you look up at him, waiting for him to say whatever he's going to say next. But he just gapes at you. "What is it Taron? What do we need to talk about now?" You ask, growing more impatient by the second. He looks at you a moment longer, then exhales heavily before making his way across the room to sink into the plush velvet loveseat in the corner. He unbuttons his jacket as he sits, then clasps his hands together in front of him. Your eyes follow his every move.

"I feel like...I feel like I don't know you anymore", he states simply.

"What do you mean?" You ask, genuinely perplexed by his statement.

"You're dating guys from work, kissing Richard, standing half naked in front of me...I mean, who are you?" You are a bit taken back by his words, but he does have a point. This version of yourself that you've been seeing lately is a bit different, but you're not sure that's a bad thing.

"I don't feel like any of those things are your concern frankly", you say emotionless.

"Are you trying to hurt me?"

"What?" You ask, surprised by his question.

"Are you trying to get back at me for A- For what I did?" He says this so quietly, you barely hear him.

"I'm just trying to live my life Taron, that has nothing to do with you", you say sharply, and immediately feel guilty for your words. Why must you always say things to him that you know will hurt him? At least he's never hurt you intentionally.

"I just don't understand why you're doing all this. It's not like you."

"Well maybe I've changed. Maybe you changed me."

"Why would you say something like that?" He asks, looking as if he's about to cry and it tears at your heart. You sigh and try and let go of the pain you are feeling so that you can be civil with him.

"Look, Taron, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to hurt you, I promise. I'm just trying to get on with my life. And...it would be really nice if you'd let me." He nods his head slowly, sitting further back onto the sofa and you wonder just how long he plans on staying here in your room.

"I understand", he says softly.

"You should know though, I was the one who kissed Richard. He had nothing to do with it." You know you don't owe him an explanation, but you want to make it clear that he has no reason to be upset with Richard.

"I think he had a little to do with it", he retorts, his eyes narrowing at you.

"You know what I mean Taron. I was drunk and stupid and I kissed him. He just happened to be on the receiving end", you explain.

"That doesn't make me feel any better, but I know. Rich and I talked after you left, we're fine." The thought of them discussing your exploitations together once again makes you feel uneasy, and you begin to wonder why you feel the need to explain anything to him.

"Why were you even there? In the parking lot I mean?" You ask, and you watch as he stands again to pace the floor slightly.

"I was worried about you. I didn't see you at the party after the food arrived and I wanted to make sure you were alright."

"But why? You know I can take care of myself, AND I was with Richard."

"Because I just needed to know you were ok", he repeats, more urgently this time and still, you feel the need to press it.

"But WHY?" You demand and his face goes rigid.

"Because, I'm still fucking in love you with you ok??" He practically shouts, then turns around and slams his fists on the dresser which makes you jump. "FUCK!" He exclaims at the same time, then presses his palms flat against the wood and hangs his head.

"Taron calm down. It's the middle of the night", you say in a hushed voice, hoping to God your neighbors don't call the front desk. He takes a deep breath then turns back around, walks back to the sofa, and collapses down into it, burying his face in his hands.

"I'm sorry", he whispers through his fingers. You're not sure how many minutes of silence pass between you, but it feels like a lifetime before he finally speaks again in an unsteady voice. "Why didn't you just let me break up with her back in March when I wanted to?" He asks, uncovering his face and staring over at you in agony. You pause equally as long before answering.

"Because it wasn't the right thing to do. You know that. You love her too and you need to try and make it work with her." You hear yourself saying the words but you're not even sure you believe them anymore.

"I love you more", he whispers softly and your heart constricts painfully.

"That doesn't matter now", you say, swallowing around the scratchiness in your throat. He just stares over at you, then scoffs and shakes his head slowly. You pause, wording your next question carefully, not wanting to cause another outburst. "Why didn't you want me going to that party?" He looks down at his hands, then picks lazily at a cuticle before answering.

"You're not going to like the answer", he says, not looking you in the eyes.

"I know you worry about me, but it was just a party. What's the real reason?" You know there's more to it than he's letting on and you want to hear him say it. He stares at you for a few seconds, probably gauging how he should answer.

"I was jealous ok? All I kept seeing all night was you hanging all over Richard and it was driving me crazy. I couldn't handle seeing it at the party too. I could've just not gone but if you were going, I had to go too. I know it's dumb, but there it is. Are you happy now?" He says, his voice dripping with disdain.

"No, I'm not even remotely happy about this Taron. Any of it. First of all, I wasn't hanging all over him. We were talking and having fun and I will not justify that further. Second, you know you don't have any right to be jealous, OR tell me what to do, right?" You say, feeling a rare moment of bravery.

"Yes, of course I know that. I just can't help it sometimes. It's just...it should have been me with you tonight. I'm not blaming you. I blame myself entirely, but it should've been me. I know I have no right to feel that way but I can't change how I feel. I promise I'll try and do better", he says, hanging his head and you can't help but feel sorry for him.

"I know seeing me with Richard tonight was difficult", you say, softening your tone. "But imagine how I felt seeing you with Ashley that night...it was gut-wrenching", you say, cringing against the still all too remembered pain. He simply nods his head and rubs at his neck. You can tell Taron is uncomfortable with this discussion and you're not surprised when he quickly changes the subject.

"So, you headed home tomorrow?" He asks, gazing over at you with raised eyebrows.

"Yes, first thing in the morning, I actually have a pretty early flight so...", you trail off, hoping he takes the hint.

"Oh, that's good. Me too actually, headed home to rest for a bit then we're off for all the Premiers."

"Oh wow, is it already time?" It's hard to believe how much time has passed since you first met Taron in that crazy orange outfit outside the make-up trailer.

"Just about yeah...wild. I'm kind of excited and terrified", he admits.

"You'll be fine and it will be great. I can't wait to see it", you say, giving him a little smile but he doesn't return it.

"I wish...you were coming." You laugh a little at this, but secretly wish the same thing.

"You know I can't...", you say.

"I know, but I'm just so nervous about everyone's reaction to the film. I'm afraid I'm going to lose it at the Cannes premier. You always had such a calming effect on me back on set, it would just be nice to have you there to ground me."

"I assume...Ashley will be there?" You ask with some difficulty.

He swallows before answering. "Yes, she'll be at Cannes and London. I just wish there was a way for you and I to see it for the first time together..."

"I'll see it in L.A. You and your girlfriend will have a fabulous time", you say, forcing a smile and watching as he frowns in turn.

"Yes, I'm sure we will." Taron then exhales and slaps his hands against his thighs before rising from the sofa and walking over to the bed so that he's standing directly in front of you. "I'm really glad you came tonight, even if it wasn't with me. And...I'm sorry I was such an ass." You sigh and look up at him.

"Which time are you referring to?" You ask with a sly grin, hoping to lighten the mood before you part ways again for who knows how long. The memory of his first offense in the hallway at the Met with his body pressed so close to yours and his warm breath on your face is still all too fresh.

"I am trying", he says in all seriousness. "Please don't give up on me", he begs in earnest. Never.

"Taron, I know things are kind of...strange between us now, but I think it's time to just let all that stuff go. You have your life, I have mine...and that's ok. We both just need to remember that." You are saying this to him, but in your mind you know you have to keep telling yourself this just as much.

"I know", he all but whispers. He then reaches his hand out toward your face and you instinctively lean toward him just a bit. He touches you lightly on your cheek , grazing your skin with his thumb and for some reason, you let him. But then, apparently realizing what he's doing, he stops himself and pulls his hand back swiftly. 

You look up at him and swallow down a lump that's formed in your throat, then clear it so you can speak again. "You might as well take those", you say, pointing toward the small blue box on the dresser. "I know they were from you", you add, but decide not to question him further. His gaze follows your finger then walks over to the box. Picking it up, he opens it to stare down at the jewels briefly, then closes it and tucks the box into his jacket pocket. He looks back at you for just a moment, then turns and walks away. As he approaches the dress where it still lays in a puddle on the floor, he stops and leans down to pick it up. Holding it by the bodice, he walks back over to the loveseat and lays it out over the top, letting the skirts fall loosely around the floor. He then smooths it down so that it's laying nice and flat against the soft plush material.

Looking back over at you he says, "Just so you know, you were the most beautiful woman there tonight." You swallow hard against the impending tears but say nothing, not that you could speak even if you wanted to. Then Taron turns to leave, opens the door quietly, and slips out of the room as quickly as he came. You stare at the door for a few seconds, then cover your face with your hands and fall face down onto the bed. Burying your face into the pillow, you scream into it, with only the muffled sounds of your agony filling the room.


	14. Back Home Again

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return home after the Met Gala.

The next morning you awake with a throbbing headache and an overall sense of dread. You know everything was cleared up between you and Richard and Taron, but you can't seem to shake the feeling of unease as you drag yourself out of bed to shower. The warm cascading water does little to calm you, but at least you feel somewhat refreshed afterward. Once dry and clothed, you hurriedly pack up your belongings so that you can leave this place and get back home where you belong. As you carefully stuff the glamorous dress back into it's garment bag and place the expensive heels into your suitcase, you wonder briefly it you were meant to keep them. You can't imagine owning something so extravagant, however, not wanting to leave them behind for the hotel staff to discover, you gather them up with everything else as you make your way out of the room and down to hotel lobby. Once again, you retrieve George's card and call him to let him know that you are ready to depart for the airport, and are only a little bummed that this will be your last experience with your own personal car service.

Once you are bumping along in the sleek black vehicle and watching the city of New York pass by your eyes, you allow yourself to think back to the previous night. You are still glad you came. It was a wonderful night full of all the glitz and glamour that you never get to experience back home, although living in L.A., you probably could if you really wanted to. As usual, you don't like the way things were left with Taron. Why did he blurt out that he still loved you and why hadn't you acknowledged it? Why had he gotten the jewelry for you? What in the world must he really think about you kissing Richard? Why in the hell had you undressed in front of him?? You slap your hand over your forehead at that last one. You must've really been out of your mind. But the look in his eyes, well, it was almost worth it. A small smile pulls at your lips and you mentally scold yourself once again. You pull your phone out to distract yourself, and see that you have several missed texts from Richard that came in after you had hastily texted him that you were back safe last night.

Richard: Glad you're back safe and glad you had a good time. Don't worry about things being weird. You and I are fine.

Richard: Also, T and I talked after you left and we're fine too.

Richard: You should probably talk to him though. There's something you should know.

Your heart leaps into your chest, just like it always does where Taron is concerned. What does he mean by that? These texts came in late last night so he obviously doesn't know that you and Taron already talked. Is he referring to the jewelry? That can't be it, you already discussed that with Richard. You are just about to call him when George pulls up to the departure terminal at La Guardia. He goes around to unload your bags so you deposit your phone into your bag and follow him out of the car. It will have to wait.

George walks you all the way inside to the ticket counter where he helps you get your bags checked. Once you have ticket in hand and are ready to head to security, he finally leaves you with a little tip of his hat and you tell him how grateful you are to have had him there. You try and hand him a tip, to which he refuses, informing you that it's already been taken care of. So you watch him turn and leave, then you walk the short distance to the security line. You consider calling Richard now, but the area is so packed with people that you'd rather wait until you have a little more privacy before you hear about whatever it is that "you should know". Maybe it's because of the Met Gala, but the airport is extremely busy and it takes you a lot longer to get through security than normal. By the time you've gotten through the line and made your way to the gate, they are already boarding so you get in line to wait to board the plane. Once onboard, you stow your carry-on below you, buckle your seatbelt, then finally pull out your phone. You are hoping that whatever Richard has to say won't take long since the flight attendant just announced that they will be preparing for take-off soon. You quickly push send on the call, then wait impatiently as it rings; once, twice, three times...then finally to his voicemail. You huff under your breath and pull the phone away, looking at it in your hand. You type out a text to him.

You: Just saw your messages. I'm on the plane now but we're about to take off. What is it I need to know?

You watch the phone intently, waiting for his response. But it doesn't come and now you're even more frustrated. It's probably nothing. It's probably something you already know after talking with Taron last night. You try to relax with that thought and succumb to the fact that you won't be finding out anything for at least six hours. Your seat mate sits down next to you, a thirty-something looking woman who gives you a tight smile before pulling a magazine out of the seat pocket and flipping through it. You sigh heavily, place your phone on airplane mode and stash it into your bag, then stare at the seat back in front of you. This airplane has an entertainment device on the back of the seat, so you shrug slightly and figure maybe an in-flight movie will distract you. Selecting the movie option, you start scrolling through the various movie offerings, none of which are of particular interest to you. You are about to give up when an all-too familiar face fills the screen in front of you. The universe really can't be this crafty, can it? There are three people centered on the movie poster. You recognize Jamie Fox as the man on the left. There is a beautiful woman on the right that you don't know. And centered between them is of course, Taron, with an action shot of him working his bow as the infamous Robin Hood below that. You shake your head slightly and chuckle under your breath as you hit the select button. So much for a distraction.

By the time the movie credits roll and you are 30,000 feet in the air, you feel worse than when you started. The movie wasn't bad, it was actually pretty entertaining and an interesting take on the classic tale. Before that, the only thing you had to compare it to was the old Disney cartoon and the nineties spoof version. You had never gotten around to seeing the Kevin Costner version. This was definitely a different interpretation and Taron was amazing in it, just like all his other movies you've seen, and it reminds you just how versatile of an actor he is. What made you feel bad was the fact that halfway through, you remembered that this was the movie premier he'd asked you to attend with him when you were in Aber together. Right before everything went so horribly wrong. You remember saying yes and being terrified yet excited about it. What would've happened if everything hadn't gone south after that? If you hadn't been fired and left England. If you had stayed with him after Rocketman wrapped like he wanted you to. If you had attended the Robin Hood premier with him. One thing is for sure, he probably wouldn't have gotten back with Ashely and that is one path you cannot let your mind go down. The sadness you feel right now on this plane somewhere over the midwest suddenly overwhelms you, and you have to fight back tears. Now there is another premier coming up, another one that you were very involved in, another one that Taron wishes you could attend, but you can't. You have to admit, you wish desperately that there was a way you could go to one of them, but you know that's impossible. Not with Ashley going as his girlfriend. It would be much too awkward and difficult to see them together. You turn the movie screen off and rest your head against your seat back and try to shut out the vision of Taron's face swarming through your brain. Wondering if this will ever get easier, you finally let sleep overcome you as the airplane takes you further and further away from the literal man of your dreams.

A few hours later, you are finally pulling up into your apartment complex with a feeling of relief to be back home in normal surroundings. Richard still hasn't called or texted you back, but after your moment of self pity on the plane, you're not sure you even care that much what he has to say anymore. You told Taron that you need to move on with your life and that's really what you need to try and do now. Watching his movies and obsessing about him are not going to help you do that, and maybe it's just better if you don't know whatever it is Richard was referring to. After dumping your bags in a corner, you go to your fridge to rummage around there for something to eat. After not finding much, you resign to just going to bed. You're exhausted and back to work tomorrow, and will probably be slammed after being away for two days so might as well get some rest.

After a fitful night's sleep, not made any better by recurring dreams of the Met Gala and after party, mixed with images of Taron in his Robin Hood costume; you wake up the next morning to a vague text from Richard.

Richard: Sorry I wasn't able to return your call yesterday. I got caught up. Guess you're back home now. Don't worry about what I said before. It was nothing.

You: Ok.

You are still mildly curious about what he meant, but at this point you figure it's better that you don't know so you don't push the issue and he provides no further clarification. You are about to be much too busy now to concern yourself with it anyway.

Your assumption was right as you return to work the next day and for the week following as you are completely swamped trying to catch up from your two days away. The studio was so impressed with your work on Hailey, that they've assigned the young girl who plays her teenage daughter to you as well. So, you are busy working up color palettes and trying out different products on her every day to be ready for screen tests by the end of the week. Not to mention the fact that you still have to do your usual work with Hailey along with everything else. You are happy that they trust you with two major characters from the show, but you are definitely feeling the pressure now that you have to divide your attention between the two. At least it leaves you little time for thinking about anything else.

You have two days left before you have to present your work to the director and you are scrambling to get the young teen ready. You haven't touched your phone all morning as you rush around your little space that serves as the make-up room, and you don't even realize what time it is when Ethan pops his head in to address you.

"Hey little MUG!" You barely glance at him as he continues. "We missed you around here", he says as he presses his hand against the door frame, not committing to entering all the way inside.

"I've been back for a week", you state, confused by his words. You continue to work contour against the girl's jawline as you talk.

"I know, but I've barely seen you", he responds in a somewhat whiny voice. You sigh and look at him, make-up brush poised in mid-air.

"I've been a little busy Ethan", you snap, not bothering to hide the irritation in your voice.

"Ok, ok! I'm sorry!" He says, throwing his hands up in the air. You roll your eyes and go back to your work and hear the young girl, Christina, snigger slightly. This grabs your attention and you look down into her eyes and smile at her reaction to your annoyance, also forcing you to relax slightly.

"No, I'm sorry. I'm just a little stressed. I didn't mean to snap at you", you say, looking him in the eyes.

"Hey no problem, I get it. I just stopped by to see if you want to grab some lunch whenever you get a break."

"Umm, not sure I'll get one but I'll let you know if I do", you answer, turning your attention back to Christina.

"Fair enough", he says, smacking the door frame with his palm. He is just about to leave when he pops back around. "By the way, I think your phone is blowing up", he says, pointing over to it where it's been laying discarded on the counter for the past several hours. Your attention is pulled away from her as you glance over at it.

"Oh, thanks", you tell him as he smiles and finally leaves the doorway. Your brows furrow as you turn in the direction of the phone, wondering who could be texting. Christina speaks up which pulls your attention away from the lighted screen.

"Do you need to get that?" She asks. You are about to tell her no when you see it light up once again.

"Well, maybe. It might be important...", you say, setting the make-up brush down.

"Ok no problem. I need to go to the bathroom anyway", she says, popping up out of the chair.

"Ok", you answer distractedly, turning your full attention to the phone as you move toward it. You hardly ever get multiple texts or calls so your heart starts racing a bit thinking that there could in fact be something wrong. Picking it up, you see that you have several missed calls and texts, and they are all from Taron. What in the world? None of them say anything specific, but they all convey a similar theme along the lines of: are you busy? can you talk? please call me when you get a chance, are you available to talk?

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

What does he want now? Is this about what Richard said? Or about what happened in the hotel room? You really don't have time for this but your curiosity gets the better of you. Shutting and locking the door to the room, you sit down on the make-up stool and dial his number. Your heart is pumping hard as you wait for him to answer. You are about to hang up, thinking he's not going to, when he finally picks up.

"Hello?" The first thing you notice is how desperate his voice sounds and you are immediately concerned. Your first reaction at seeing his texts was that of irritation for the scene back in New York, but when you hear the despair in his voice, all of that goes out the window.

"Taron? Are you ok?"

"Yes...no...I don't know", he answers shakily.

"What is it? Talk to me", you say, starting to get worried. You hear him exhale heavily over the phone then clear his throat.

"It's dumb. I shouldn't have bothered you."

"Taron, it's ok. You know you can tell me anything", you say as a statement rather than a question. He sighs again before continuing.

"Ok, well I'm here in France...for the premier", he adds when you don't say anything. With everything going on, you had completely forgotten that it was coming up.

"Oh right! Wow, I can't believe it's finally time. You must be so excited!" You say, noting that he sounds anything but.

"Yes, well I am excited, but I'm really nervous too. So much so that I'm making myself sick", he says and you note the shakiness in his voice. You've really only heard him talk like this once before when he was explaining how anxious he was during filming, worrying about doing justice to Elton in the role.

"Taron, we've been over this. The film is going to be fantastic. YOU are fantastic. No one could've played that role the way you did. Everyone else sees it, why can't you?"

"What if they hate it? What if...they hate...me?" He whispers that last part.

"What if they love it?" You counter. "And Taron? No one could hate you. It's not possible."

"I just don't think I could live with myself if they don't like it. Elton would be so disappointed."

"Do you remember what I told you that night after we snuck onto the Troubadour set?" You ask, thinking back to the night when you first spent time with him outside the make-up room.

"Umm, I think so...", he trails off.

"Well, I told you then that you are an incredible performer. I knew even then that your passion and your commitment to the character and film were beyond anything I'd ever seen. It was true then and it's even more true now. You are an amazingly gifted actor. YOU ARE AMAZING. Don't ever forget that", you say in your most reassuring voice possible.

"Wow. You have no idea what that means to me, coming from you. I can't believe you would say that after everything that's happened. I don't deserve your praise", he adds quietly.

"It doesn't matter what's happened between you and me personally. My feelings aside, it doesn't change the fact that you are incredibly talented and you deserve to be acknowledged for that."

"Thank you, but I would never put your feelings aside, believe it or not." He pauses and you wait, listening for him to continue as you glance up at yourself in the mirror. You look tired, but there's a relaxed look that falls around your face. Peaceful even. Serene. Is this what your face always looks like when you talk to him? "I really wish you were here", he whispers and your heart squeezes tightly in your chest.

"Taron...", you whisper back.

"I know, it's not possible. It would just make everything complete, in a way", he says sighing.

"I'm sure you have so many people there that love and care about you. Once the movie starts, you will forget all about your nerves and it will be breathtaking. I promise", you add with a smile, even though he can't see.

"I doubt it but-" You interrupt him before he can argue further.

"Do you trust me?" There is a pause on the other end which unnerves you. Does he not?

"Of course I do, with my life", he finally answers.

"Then trust me when I say it will be brilliant", you say, using a term from his vernacular. He sighs heavily and you wonder if you've finally convinced him. "Taron?" You ask when he still hasn't said anything.

"Ok love, I'll trust you. I'll go into this thing with my head held high and whatever happens happens."

"That's my Taron", you say before thinking, then press your palm to your forehead feeling embarrassed.

"Thank you", he says, and you can practically hear him smiling through the phone. At that moment, you hear a soft knock on the door and Christina's small voice calling your name on the other side.

"Oh shit, Taron I'm really sorry but I've got to go. I'm at work... But it's going to be great. Good luck and all that, let me know how it goes after?" You say as sincerely as you can, as you make your way over to the locked door.

"Ok love. I appreciate...everything. Goodbye." You think hear a crack in his voice just before he ends the call without giving you a chance to say goodbye. Odd. You unlock the door and let the young girl through.

An hour later, you have finally finished with her and are ready to sit down for a few minutes before tackling your next task. You couldn't help replaying the conversation between you and Taron in your head as you worked on her, and now you are questioning everything you said. Had you said enough to convince him to relax? Did you say too much? Is he still worried? You wish you could be there to comfort him, but all you can do is hope that what you said over the phone was sufficient.

It suddenly occurs to you that as Richard's friend, it would probably be nice to reach out to him to wish him good luck on the premier as well. You doubt very much that he's nervous, but it would be nice to touch base with him, especially since you haven't talked to him since you got back from New York. You collapse into the chair along the wall next to the door and dial his number. It's probably late in France so you're expecting to get his voicemail when he actually picks up.

"Hello lass."

"Hey Rich, I thought I would just get your voicemail. Am I bothering you?"

"Of course not. I'm just getting ready to turn in though. Big day tomorrow", he confirms.

"Yes, that's what I was calling about. I don't want to keep you, but I wanted to wish you good luck for tomorrow!" You say excitedly. You really do wish you could be there now.

"Oh thanks. Yeah, we're excited. Taron's terrified. He's not really admitting it, but I can tell."

"Yeah I know, I talked to him a little while ago."

"Oh? I didn't realize you'd talked to him", he says, sounding surprised.

"Yes, he called and told me he was nervous so I tried to talk him down. Not sure it did any good though", you admit.

"I'm sure it did. I haven't seen him in a few hours so maybe he's feeling better", he says, sounding tired.

"Ok, well I'll let you get some rest. Just wanted you to know I was thinking about you."

"Thanks, I appreciate it", he says. You are just about to tell him bye when a thought pops into your head and you voice it without thinking.

"Rich?"

"Yes?"

"What did you mean by your text last week after the Gala? You said there was something I should know?" You ask, then suddenly feel terrified at knowing whatever it is.

"Oh. That", he sighs and you wonder if he's actually going to tell you now. "I really shouldn't have said anything. I was caught up in the drama of that night and it really isn't my place to tell." You cringe remembering the last time he said words like that to you. It didn't end very well for you then.

"Well, you can't just leave it at that now. My curiosity has gotten the better of me. Just tell me please." You hear him inhale and exhale loudly over the phone.

"You really just need to talk to Taron", he says, and you grow increasingly annoyed.

"Richard, I already talked to Taron and he didn't say anything. Please, just tell me." There is a moment's pause on the other end as if he's deciding what he should do. Finally, he speaks in a hushed voice.

"Ok, but promise you won't say anything to Taron."

"Ok?" Now you are really scared.

"Ok, well it's just that you kept thanking me for the Met Gala...but... all I did was get you there", he says quietly and now you're really confused.

"Huh? What do you mean?" He sighs again as if he thinks that's an adequate explanation.

"I invited you and you went. But the rest of it; the ticket, the flight, the hotel, the dress, everything...that was all Taron."


	15. Good Luck Charm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron keeps you updated on the Premiers.

"Richard, what do you mean?" Your heart is thudding in your chest at his admission and you're not sure why.

"He would kill me if he knew I was telling you this", Richard says with a heavy exhale.

"Well you've already told me so what does that mean exactly, that it was all Taron?" Had he orchestrated the entire thing? And if so, why?

"Well, when he found out that you had agreed to go with me, he insisted on making all the arrangements", he explains as if this is no big deal.

"What do you mean?" You repeat. You know you already asked this but you are so confused right now that you really need him to spell it all out for you.

"When I told him you had agreed to go and that I was going to make all the arrangements, he asked if he could be the one to take care of everything. I didn't see any reason for him not to and it was one less thing I had to worry about, so I let him. He made the arrangements and then I just passed the info along to you", Richard explains further but you are still confused.

"So... you lied to me? You already admitted that he got the jewelry. I thought you took care of everything else?" You're not sure whether to be hurt, flattered or humiliated.

"I know. That's what I wanted you to believe. I'm not proud of it and I'm sorry. He made me promise not to tell you and now here I am breaking that promise." Putting your own discomfort aside, the fact that you could be coming between their friendship once again makes you feel sick to your stomach so you decide to let him off the hook.

"Rich, why would he do all that...for me?" You ask more to yourself than to him. "Why would he go to all that trouble when I had turned him down?" There is a pause on the other end of the line.

"Why do you think?" He finally says quietly, and you remember Taron's declaration that night in your hotel room.

"Oh God", you sigh.

"Yeah...he just really wanted to make sure you didn't know. I was hoping he would tell you himself, but I guess he didn't."

"No, he didn't", you confirm, wishing more than anything that he had. "Wait. Is that why you asked me? Did he tell you to ask me so I would go and he could plan everything?" Your mind is spinning out of control and you can't imagine either one of them being that deceptive.

"No, not at all. I asked you of my own accord, I promise. He just wanted to take care of everything once he found out you were going. I suppose he was going to do that all along if you had agreed to go with him."

"Yeah, I guess that makes sense", you agree. Richard waits to see if you're going to say anything else about it, but you don't. What else is there to say?

"Well, I'm glad you know anyway. I was tired of taking credit for something I didn't do", he says with a little chuckle. "I guess I better get going. You going to be ok?" He asks.

"Yeah, sure. Thanks Rich, and good luck again", you say, feeling over emotional at the moment.

"No problem kid. Wish you were going to be there, but I get it. Talk to you soon, ok?"

"Ok, bye."

"Goodnight", he says, then the line disconnects. You pull the phone away from your face and stare down at it. You are shocked, to say the least, and you don't know how to react to this newest revelation. Regardless of his feelings for you, why had Taron gone to all that trouble? And why hadn't he told you? On the one hand, you are flattered and amazed at everything he did for you that night. On the other, you are irritated that he didn't tell you, but you suppose you can understand why. Not to mention the fact that he unwittingly made Richard lie to you in the process, although you can hardly blame Rich for that. It was a white lie after all. But you are growing tired of all the deception that is happening between the three of you, whether it comes from a place of affection or not. The thing that breaks your heart the most is knowing how truly devastated Taron must have been after doing everything to make sure you had a wonderful evening, only to find you mugging down with Richard in the back of a car at the end of the night. The memory of the look on his face makes you shudder.

Later that night after you are home and getting ready for bed, you wonder if Taron is still asleep in France, dreaming of his upcoming day at Cannes. Even though you are now emotionally confused at finding out about his involvement with the Met Gala, you still feel concerned for him knowing he'll be nervous for the day to come. You wish you weren't going to be asleep when the day will just be starting for him, but you're glad he will be surrounded by people he cares about. You have no other choice but to just put it all out of your mind so that you can get some rest yourself. By the time you wake up in the morning, he will undoubtedly be getting ready for the big premier.

The next day at work follows in much the same way that the previous week has. You are busy with your two leading ladies with little time for thinking of much else. You work right through lunch, much to the dismay of Ethan, who is still waiting for his opportunity for a lunch break with you. Your mind drifts in and out with thoughts of Taron and what he must be doing at any given moment throughout the day. You'd like to reach out and check in, but you don't want to bother him not knowing what exactly might be going on, and you're really too busy with work to call anyway. Your commitment to getting everything perfect pays off in the end when you are done with both women a full day ahead of schedule of the director's demands. As you send them on their way for the final screen lighting tests, you are relieved to finally be done with the majority of your work before the cast and crew breaks for the summer sabbatical. You are looking forward to the time off and a little R&R, however you're starting to wonder what you're going to do with all your extra time. You haven't had a vacation since your whirlwind Europe trip with Lisa that ended with you staying in England long past what was originally planned to work on Rocketman, and you're thinking it might just be the time to do some traveling again. There are about two weeks left to finish everything up to be ready for filming in August, and you figure you will take this time to think about where you'd like to possibly travel.

The air in the studio is that of excited relief to be finally at a point where everything seems to be coming together. It's after 3:00 when everyone finishes, so a few people decide to grab a late lunch at the burger joint across the street and you happily agree to tag along. It's crowded and loud in the compact establishment for a random Thursday afternoon, and it seems as if all of L.A. is joining in on the excitement of summer right around the corner. You are seated at a large round table with Ethan to your left; and you all order burgers, fries and sodas and enjoy raucous conversation as you eat. There's a jukebox playing in the corner and you hum happily along while you converse with your fellow co-workers. This is the most at ease and relaxed you've felt in a long time, and you can't help but wonder if things are finally starting to go back to normal for you. You are just finishing off your cherry coke and laughing at Ethan's latest joke he just told, when you feel your phone vibrating in your purse which is slung around the back of your chair. It takes you a minute to reach around and fish it out and when you finally do, you see Taron's name lighting up the screen. Knowing that it's much too loud to have a phone conversation, you slide the bar across anyway and press the phone close to your ear while plugging the other ear with your finger.

"Hello?" You say a little too loudly. You hear Taron say your name in question. "Yes, I'm here. Can you hear me?"

"Barely, where are you?" He says just as loud so you can hear him.

"I'm at lunch, well early dinner I guess. Eating with some friends."

Your booming voice has caught Ethan's attention and he turns to you and asks a little too loud, "Who is it?" You just stare over at him, unable or unwilling to speak Taron's name to him.

"Who is that?" Taron asks on the other end.

"Umm, hold on", you say as you start to get up, but Ethan grabs your arm.

"Wait, we were about to order milkshakes", he says, staring up into your eyes as you stare back down at him. You hold a finger out to him and pull your arm from his grasp. He watches you as you wind your way through the packed restaurant to the door and outside into the sunshine. Taking a deep breath, you focus your attention on Taron.

"Taron? You there?" You ask, squinting into the brightness of the mid-afternoon day.

"Yes...do you need to go? You sound distracted", he says quieter now.

"No, I mean I want to talk to you, but not here. Can I call you back in like thirty minutes?" You ask.

"Yeah sure. You don't have to if you're busy. You just said to let you know about the premier, so that's what I was doing", he says robotically. Shit, the premier. With everything going on you had almost forgotten again.

"Yes, I definitely want to hear how it went. I'll call you back, if it's not too late for you?" You suddenly remember that if it's after 3:00 here, it must be pretty late in France.

"I'll be up. Talk to you soon."

"Ok, bye for now", you say, then end the call hurriedly so that you can go back in and take care of your check. Once back inside, you hastily pull out some bills from your wallet without bothering to sit back down. Ethan watches you toss them onto the table and then collect your purse from the chair.

"MUG, where you off to in such a hurry?"

"I need to go. See you tomorrow guys", you say, addressing him and the entire table at the same time. The others say quick goodbyes and wave as they return to their conversations, but Ethan doesn't let you go so easily as he stands to face you.

"Wait a minute, you get a phone call then dash off immediately after? What's the rush?" You can practically see the wheels spinning in his head as he thinks this over. "Wait, was that THE guy?" Your heart beats a little faster. "What do I have to do to be the guy that makes you take off like that?" You lean in close so that he can hear you over the noise.

"I told you, that subject is off limits", you say as serious as you possibly can. He rolls his eyes then sits back down.

"Ok. Go on then. Just don't get your heart broken again." You stare back at him as you feel anger surge through you at his audacity to assume he knows anything about your heart. You try to ignore the fact that there's some truth to what he's insinuating.

"Whatever", you mumble as you leave the table and exit the restaurant. You are still fuming a bit as you drive home to your apartment, but you try and put it out of your head and focus on Taron. Closing your door behind you and dropping your purse on the couch, you pull out your phone, quickly find his number and press the button to dial. It rings several times and you worry that maybe he's gone to sleep. Noting the time at 4:30, some quick addition tells you that it is after 1:00 am in France. Finally, his soft voice comes over the speaker.

"Hi love." Hearing his voice fills you with relief and admittedly, excitement. You sink down into the couch and relax at his words.

"Hey. So how'd it go?" You ask immediately. He sighs heavily and you hold your breath in anticipation. What if it didn't go well? After you assured him it would.

"It was...amazing", you let out your breath quietly and smile. His voice sounds tired, but you can hear the joy there too.

"See, I told you! Taron, I'm so happy for you. So tell me about it", you add, feeling giddy. If you couldn't be there yourself, living it vicariously through Taron would be the next best thing.

"Well the day started out with a photo call with all of us. Elton, Bernie, Richard...everyone was there. You should've seen it. It was so gorgeous." You smile at his description. "They clapped during "Your Song" and "I'm Still Standing". There was a four minute standing ovation when it ended. I cried", he says, laughing a little and you giggle along with him but let him continue. "Then we went down to the beach for an after party and I sang "Rocketman" with Elton. It was all so wonderfully surreal. It's really funny how life turns out you know", he adds quietly. You realize your cheeks are hurting from smiling, you feel so much pride and happiness for him. "I was so nervous to sing with him, but I think it turned out ok."

"I'm sure it was beautiful", you agree, knowing in your heart that it absolutely was.

"There was only one thing missing...", he says quietly and the smile fades from your face.

"Taron, please don't...", you say but he ignores your plea.

"There's only one better version of this day that I can think of, and that's where you are there with me."

"Taron..."

"What? It's true", he says and you sigh.

"You can't keep saying things like that to me." Your heart literally can't take it.

"I know. I just wish I could've shared it with you. Is that so wrong?"

"No, I guess not", you admit and then quickly change the subject. "It's late there right? Why are you still up?"

"Couldn't sleep. Too wired I guess." You imagine him in his hotel room, then realize he's probably not alone and cringe.

"So, where are you right now?" You ask, hating yourself for even asking.

"I'm in the hotel lobby. Didn't want to wake-" He doesn't finish and you're grateful, but suddenly the thought of him talking to you in the middle of the night unbeknownst to anyone else leaves you feeling awkward. As if you're doing something wrong. Something sneaky.

"Maybe you should go back to bed. You wouldn't want Ashley to wake up and find you gone", you say, wincing at the saltiness you hear in your voice. He blows air into the phone as he exhales.

"Why is this so easy for you?" He asks, just as salty.

"Easy? You think this is easy for me? You think it's easy for me to imagine her there with you and not me? For me to know it was her hand you were holding all night? That it's her waiting in your bed for you right now? This is a lot of things Taron, but easy is definitely not one of them", you retort, the anger rising in your voice.

"Ok, I'm sorry. You're right. I shouldn't have said that", he says and you relax at his words, but only slightly. "Everything just seems so weird between us and I want us to be friends. For us to be close", he says earnestly.

"I know. That's why this is so difficult." He doesn't say anything so you add, "But I am trying."

"I know. Me too." He pauses a moment then says, "It is late so I'll let you go, but I wanted to tell you one thing." Your heart stops, wondering if he's about to confess to his involvement in the Met Gala. You considered mentioning it yourself but you didn't want to to dampen his mood after today.

"Ok?"

"I just wanted you to know that I couldn't have made it through today without you", he says and you sigh inwardly with relief.

"Oh? What do you mean?" You ask.

"I was really scared about today but I kept reminding myself what you told me about my commitment to the role and all that, and I really think that's what helped me. I just kept hearing your voice in my head and it calmed me somehow. So, thank you."

"I didn't really say anything that you shouldn't already know, but you're welcome. I'm glad I could help even though I wasn't there."

"You were there...in a way", he says so softly you barely hear him. You smile into the phone but can't bring yourself to acknowledge that last statement.

"So what's next?" You ask, wanting to distract yourself from his voice.

"Well, a whole lot of interviews tomorrow, then back home for the London Premier. Then South Korea and Australia." He sounds tired just talking about it.

"Wow, busy boy."

"Yes m'am. Can I...can I call you before the London premier?" He asks tentatively.

"Of course", you agree without even thinking about it.

"Ok, thanks for talking with me. Talk to you soon."

"Goodbye Taron."

"Bye love." You pull the phone away from your ear and end the call. You feel a range of emotions after talking with Taron and you're not sure which one to settle on. Happiness at the success of the day, sorrow that you can't be there to enjoy it with him. Pride at the movie for getting such a promising reception, unease at his accusation that this is no big deal for you. You settle on happiness and try and leave it at that. Still looking down at the phone in your hand, you see you have a missed text from Ethan. Clicking on it, you quickly read it then shake your head in frustration.

Ethan: Just checking in since you ran out so fast. How about a night cap later? We can go to that coffee place or if you're feeling brave, to a bar for a real drink.

Seriously? Good grief, what do you have to do to make this guy get that you're not interested?

You: No thanks. Kind of tired. See you tomorrow at work, maybe I'll have time for lunch.

No answer after that, thank goodness.

You look around your empty apartment for a moment after setting your phone down, then decide to have a quick run to burn off some of your pent-up energy, not to mention the cheeseburger and fries you inhaled at lunch.

True to his word, Taron calls you the following Monday morning as you are getting ready for work. You were starting to wonder if he really would, knowing that he must have a lot going on to get ready for the day.

"Hi", you say as you accept the call.

"Hey. Am I catching you at a bad time?"

"No, just getting ready for work", you assure him, as you slip your foot into your left shoe and bend down to tie it while cradling the phone against your ear. "I actually wasn't sure you were still going to call."

"Of course I was, you're my good luck charm", he says and you feel yourself swoon stupidly. "I don't have much time though, we are about to leave for the blue carpet. But I didn't want to call too early."

"Blue huh? That sounds fun", you say, imagining Taron walking and posing along a long stretched out blue velvet carpet.

"Yeah, we're excited", he agrees and you try not to dwell on who "we" is.

"I saw a picture of you from the Cannes Premier", you say, remembering your Instagram party you had with yourself the previous weekend when you had "stumbled" across his account. "Very handsome", you add.

"Oh, thanks love. That's sweet. I love my suit for tonight though. Favorite suit of all time."

"Nice. Can't wait to see."

"There was a professional photographer here taking some photos. Would you like a little preview?" He asks and your heart skips a beat. Why does the mention of him sending you a picture send your heart into overdrive?

"Sure", you croak.

"Ok, hold on." You hear the shuffling of the phone and then a few moments pass before he returns to the line. "Ok, sent."

"Ok..." You put him on speaker and then open your texts to find a pic from him waiting there for you. You click on it and your breath catches and sticks in your throat. He looks as though he's standing in an elevator, and his hands are poised at his suit jacket adjusting the buttons. He's looking down slightly with that signature furrowed expression on his face. The tones of the photo are brown and gold and the shadows fall perfectly around his face and body, casting him in a sexy smoldering glow. His suit is brown with a slight pattern to it, and he wears a white button down shirt and purple paisley tie that fits perfectly over his broad chest. His neat little pocket square at his breast has the same pattern as the tie, and a high quality designer watch peeks out at his wrist. The strength, power and overall stunning stance that he holds is nothing short of breathtaking, and you have to take a minute to collect yourself before speaking to him again. "Wow Taron", you say breathless onto the tiny speaker. "You look incredible." Suddenly, you are very sorry not to be there with him.

"Thanks love", he whispers. "Well they're calling me so I guess I should go", he says hastily and an intense feeling of despair washes over you.

"Oh, ok. Well have fun and remember what I said before", you say, hoping he knows you are referring to how he shouldn't be nervous.

"Always", he confirms. "Bye."

"Bye." You put the phone down and reluctantly finish getting ready for work.

Taron proceeds to text you selfies before his next two premiers in Korea and Australia respectively over the following few days, to which you text back "good luck" with several accompanying lighthearted emojis. You are happy he's having a good time and things seem to be going well, even though you can't help but feel a tad jealous that you're not there experiencing it all with him. You keep up with his adventures through his Instagram page and you feel a slight satisfaction that he keeps you updated in his own personal way.

After the big premiers are finally over and he has returned back home, he texts you once more early one morning as you are just getting out of bed.

Taron: I'll be in L.A. in a couple of days and I need a favour...


	16. Just Like Old Times

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Taron spend an afternoon together.

You're not sure what surprises you more, the fact that he's asking you for a favor or the fact that he'll be back in L.A. soon. You're also not sure which detail you should address first. Staring down at the text for a few moments, as if all the answers will suddenly appear, you decide that this is worthy of an actual phone call.

You: Can you call me?

You wait impatiently for him to text back, but your phone starts ringing almost immediately instead. Taron, of course. Sliding the bar over, you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stretch one arm over your head.

"Hi", you answer lazily.

"Good morning. Did I wake you?" He asks.

"No, not really. But I don't mind..."

"Ok good", he responds softly, and you remember why he had texted in the first place.

"So, you're coming to L.A.? Why?" You had assumed he would be doing more promoting for Rocketman in Europe and weren't aware of any premier scheduled here.

"Yeah. I'm going to be on the Jimmy Kimmel show. It was kind of a last minute gig", he explains, and your heart flutters at the thought of him sharing the same time zone as you once again. Of course it immediately drops at the thought of the last time he was here, when you sat together in that coffee shop.

"I see... So what's the favor?" You ask, trying to calm your slightly racing heart by lying back down and taking a deep breath.

"Well, I was going over the details for the show. All basic stuff; arrival time, what to wear and what not, but then I came across the bit about make-up for the show..." He trails off, not finishing his sentence as if you're supposed to guess the rest. When you obviously don't and just continue to stare up at the ceiling, you finally pipe up.

"And?" You ask impatiently.

"So they said I could either use their make-up artist on staff or...I could bring my own", he says, his voice dropping low as he speaks the last words. You're still not sure what he's implying but you're starting to get the picture.

"Ok... What does that mean?" You ask, wanting...no, needing him to clarify. He huffs into the phone, seemingly frustrated that you're not getting his point.

"I want you to do it", he states simply. You are equally shocked and not surprised in the least at the same time.

"Taron", you protest, but he interrupts you.

"Before you say no, just know that it would be completely professional. I'm not just asking so that I have an excuse to see you. Although that would definitely be a bonus. You would get paid and everything", he adds lightly. You're not sure whether to be flattered by his request, or insulted that there would be any question of whether you would get paid. He is an actor after all and you are a professional make-up artist that would be providing a service to him.

"Why don't you want the artist on staff to do it?" You ask, wondering if it would be uncomfortable to work on him considering your history. He sucks in a breath through his teeth before responding.

"Because I want you", he offers, and your heart nearly explodes from hearing those four simple words coming from him.

"Do you really think that's a good idea?" You ask, trying to control the shaking of your voice. Imagining touching him, being so near to him physically after everything that's happened has you literally trembling.

"I don't care", he says abruptly. "I want to see you. I want you to work with me, just like we used to." Images of his face lingering below your fingertips as you worked so closely with him flood your memory, and you have to squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to block them out. His voice continues in your ear as you try and clear your mind. "You yourself said that we need to let go of the past and start over right? I think this might be the best way to do that, to go back to the way it was in the beginning." You think back to your conversation in New York that he's apparently referring to and know that's not exactly what you said, but maybe that's how he took it. You also know that things can never go back to they way they were and it would be absurd to think so.

"We can't recreate the past Taron. You know that right?" You say, hoping you don't sound too harsh.

"Of course I know that, but our friendship is important to me and I'm just trying to do everything I can to make sure we preserve it", he says earnestly. You have to admit, when he puts it like that it's hard to disagree, even though you also think it could just be asking for trouble. You think it over for a moment longer and realize it really isn't that big of a deal. You have little experience with talk show make-up but you assume it's just basic foundation and concealer, maybe a little contour. It'll take thirty minutes, max. And it is just this once...

"Ok", you say quietly, hating yourself just a little for always giving in to him.

"Ok?" He repeats.

"Yes I'll do it", you say with refrained excitement.

"Oh, you have no idea how happy that makes me!" He practically yells, and you're glad he can't see the huge grin that just split across your face. "I'll have my assistant send over the details right away" he says, and you can almost hear him bouncing over the phone.

"Ok", you say, trying to suppress a giggle. It's odd but at this moment, you almost feel as if it's just like old times.

"Thank you, for saying yes", he says sincerely and calmly.

"Wait, when is it and what time?" You ask, almost as an afterthought. You were so surprised by his request that you hadn't even thought of that slightly significant detail. You hear him laugh softly but it doesn't really bother you.

"Tuesday, and they said I should be there at 3:00 for a 4:30 taping...does that work for you? I mean, will it interfere with your job?" He asks, and you can hear the slight worry in his voice that you might change your mind. You take a moment to think over your schedule for the week. Everything is pretty much finished for the summer hiatus, and you're just putting in a few hours this week to make sure everything is settled before you depart for a couple of months.

"No, I mean, I think it will be ok. I'm just about finished for the summer anyway", you confirm, and can almost hear his sigh of relief.

"Oh, that's nice for you. Looking forward to having some time off then?" He asks.

"Yes actually. Although I'm not quite sure what I'm going to do with all my free time", you say, chuckling.

"Hmm", he replies and you wonder what that means. "Ok, well I'm chuffed to bits that I get to see you soon. I've got to run though, need to get packed."

"Ok Taron. See you soon."

"Bye love. Honestly cannot wait", he says endearingly before ending the call. You smile sheepishly at the phone, then drag yourself up to begin your lazy Sunday routine and look forward to the coming week.

Tuesday proves to be a little more crazy than you thought. With Monday being a holiday, it seems everyone is scrambling to tie up loose ends before heading out for Summer. The director had announced the previous Friday that as soon as everyone had their work done, they were free to leave, so now the entire cast and crew is running around frantically to make that happen. Sometime around mid-morning, your phone rings and you pull it out of your pocket to see who's calling. When you see Taron's name, you have a slight panic attack that maybe you're late meeting him for the talk show. You check the time quickly on your watch and see that you're still ok. His assistant Lindsay had sent you the details shortly after you got off the phone with him over the weekend with instructions to be there promptly at 3:00. She had also sent a one page contract for you to electronically sign, ensuring that this was indeed on the up and up. Not that you had any doubts of the legitimacy of the agreement. You haven't talked to Taron since that morning, not wanting to bother him as he prepared to fly across the world again.

"Taron?" You ask, before he has the chance to say anything.

"Yes, I'm here. Just landed. Where are you?" He asks, and you can hear the distant sounds of airplane engines powering down.

"I'm at work. Just finishing up some things. Still meeting at 3:00 yes?" You ask, confirming since you have him on the phone.

"Yes...but I thought maybe since I'm here, I could come by and get you? If you're finished that is, maybe we could grab some lunch before heading to the show?" You smile down at your shoes and feel the heat rise in your neck.

"Oh...yeah, I could probably make that happen", you say, looking around your small space and seeing that it's pretty much tidied up except for a few things here and there. "Just give me like an hour?" You ask.

"Oh sure. I need to get my bags and my rental car anyway. Send me the address and I'll be there in an hour or so", he says, his voice muffled as if he's balancing the phone against his face.

"Ok, sounds good. See you then."

"Bye." You end the call, send him the address and then get to work finishing the organization of your space so you can make your getaway. And hour and half later, the security guard calls you to let you know that there's a gentleman there to see you at the main entrance. You give him the clearance to let him through, then text Taron that you will meet him in the front lobby. After you've gathered your belongings and taken once last look around to make sure you're satisfied with your work, you make your way through the long and winding hallways toward the lobby. When you're halfway there, Ethan comes out of nowhere from a side hallway and joins you as you walk. How does he always seem to have such terrible timing?

"Hey MUG, you all done for now?" He asks, taking wide steps to match your pace through the skinny hallway. You can't help but notice his arm brushing against yours as you walk steadily on.

"Yep, I'm outta here. You?" You reply, trying your best to stay polite even though you want nothing more than to get away from him, especially before you see Taron.

"A few more hours, then yeah. What you got going on this weekend?" He asks, and you exhale deeply.

"Not sure yet. Guess I'll play it by ear", you answer, still looking straight ahead.

"Cool, cool. Well let me know if you wanna hang or whatever." You stop abruptly at look at him oddly, and he stops short at your halting steps.

"Why would I want...nevermind. Look Ethan, I'm late meeting someone. I'll talk to you later, ok?" You say, starting to walk again and he follows along beside you once more.

"Ok, no problem. Just wondering when I'm gonna get that second date", he says a little too loudly, and it's at this moment you turn a corner and practically run right into Taron. His eyes light as he sees you and a broad smile breaks out over his face. He is just coming in for an embrace when he notices Ethan there and stops suddenly.

"Oh, hi Taron", you stutter. You feel caught off-guard to find yourself here between the two of them, and you wonder if Taron just heard what Ethan blurted out. Before it can turn too horribly awkward, you quickly introduce the two.

"Ethan, this is Taron. Taron, Ethan", you say, motioning between them. You watch as they briefly clasp hands and mumble greetings, eyes wandering over each other, sizing the other up. You are watching Taron most closely, and you see his eyes narrow and his jaw flex as he appraises Ethan carefully. They both look to you, probably for further clarification of your relationship with them. "Ethan is the set designer here", you explain to Taron as he nods his head but says nothing. You then turn to Ethan and say, "Taron is an old, um, friend...from England. He plays Elton John in the new movie about his life", you explain further. You see understanding pass over Ethan's face and his eyes suddenly become wide. Your heart sinks and you're filled with dread over whatever he's going to say next.

"Ohhhhh. Wait is this HIM?" He says, looking at Taron and then staring over at you again. You give the slightest shake of your head, hoping that it's not noticeable to Taron, but enough for Ethan to shut the hell up. "Oh wow, ok", he says laughing, and the urge to smack him becomes more and more intense. You look back over at Taron who is staring at Ethan, the deep lines in his forehead creasing into his scrunched up brows. He then looks back at you in confusion, waiting for an explanation undoubtedly. Since you have none to give, you instead walk toward him and grab his arm to lead him away.

"Bye Ethan", you say disdainfully over your shoulder and pray to God that he doesn't say anything else.

Your prayers go unanswered however as he calls back, "Bye MUG, be careful with that little heart of yours!" The blood in your vein feels like ice as you lead Taron out the front door and into the bright sunshine of the day. As soon as you've cleared the doors, you release his arm, feeling overwhelmed with embarrassment at the encounter that just occurred inside.

"My car is over here", Taron says, pointing in the general direction of a sleek looking two door coupe. You march toward it without saying a word. You wait for him to unlock the door, then climb inside, depositing your bag into the backseat. He goes around to the driver's side and slips into his seat then looks over at you. "So what was that all about?" You knew it would be too easy for him to just let it go.

"Nothing. Just Ethan being Ethan", you say, huffing. Taron looks toward the front windshield and turns the car on, and you think he might just leave it at that. No such luck...

"Is that the guy you went out with?" He asks, slipping sunglasses onto his face and looking back over at you.

"I did not go out with him, we had coffee. That's it", you say, a little too forcefully.

"Ok", he says, lifting his hand in resignation. "There just seemed to be some...tension there, that's all", he says, looking over at you hesitantly. You just stare back at him, then reach around to grab your own sunglasses out of your bag and whip them onto your face. "What is MUG?" He asks, putting extra emphasis on the word.

"Just a stupid nickname. Can we go to lunch now?" You ask, wanting desperately to be done with this conversation.

"Sure", he says turning his attention to the steering wheel. "Just bear with me. Still getting used to driving on this side of the car", he says, flashing you a million dollar grin and you relax instantly. You smile back and release your shoulders that were previously up around your ears. "So what sounds good?" He asks as he reverses out of the spot and drives toward the studio exit.

"Anything", you answer, just happy to be with him. A few minutes later, you both agree that sushi sounds perfect and head in the direction of the nearest sushi place. After a few close calls as Taron remembers how to drive on the "right side of the road", you pull up to a modern and stylish Japanese restaurant on Sunset Boulevard and let the valet park the car. Luckily there is no wait, so you are seated quickly and handed menus. You both order waters to start and as the waiter leaves the table, you look over at Taron happily perusing his menu and can't help but smile. He catches your eye and smiles back before returning his eyes to the various sushi offerings. The waiter returns a little later and you both order a sushi and sashimi assortment, then hand your menus to him.

When he asks about drinks, Taron turns to you and asks, "Sake?" You giggle at him.

"It's noon", you answer with a grin.

"Ok fine, beer?"

"Sure", you agree and he turns back to the waiter.

"Two sapporos please?" The waiter nods and leaves the table.

"What did you just order for me?" You ask, having never heard of this particular beer and feeling only mildly annoyed that he ordered for you.

"Don't worry, you'll like it. Very refreshing and sweet. Just like you", he adds with a coy smile and you smirk at him. Ignoring your smirk, he asks, "So how have you been?"

"Good, busy. I'm glad to be done for awhile." He nods.

"Yeah, me too", he sighs, and you feel foolish for complaining about being busy after the whirlwind of a month he's had. "Except I won't be done for awhile", he adds with a little chuckle.

"Yes, you definitely have been busy. So what's next for you?"

"Well, after tonight I'm off again bright and early tomorrow to New York for the American Premier", he answers. You find yourself disappointed that he's leaving so soon again.

"Tomorrow? Wow, no rest for the wicked I guess", you say, and immediately feel dumb for saying it.

"Yeah I guess not." His eyes flick to you and he opens his mouth as if to say something else, then closes it again quickly. He smiles awkwardly then takes a sip of his water, and you notice a slight tremble to his hand.

"Are you ok?" You ask, suddenly concerned for him.

"Yes, just tired. And a little nervous", he says, peering over at you.

"Why? For tonight?"

"No, not exactly."

"What then?"

"I guess I'm just a little nervous about being here with you. I wasn't sure how you'd feel after...everything. I don't want to screw anything else up." He looks terrified as he says this but you can appreciate his honesty.

"I'm fine Taron. We...are ok. It's not going to be easy, but I'm willing to give friendship a shot if you are."

"You know I want that more than anything. Well, almost anything." You try and ignore that last statement, and pause as the waiter sets a bowl of miso soup down in front of you, and then does the same for Taron.

"Me too", you agree after the waiter leaves, then the two of you sip your soup in relative silence. When your lunch arrives, your mouth starts to water and you realize that there's no lady-like way to eat sushi as you unwrap your chopsticks. Maybe you should've suggested something else. Oh well, too late now. Throughout lunch, you chit chat pleasantly about details of all the premiers he's attended in the past few weeks and the places he's been able to visit. He was most impressed with Australia and seeing the Sydney Opera House, and you smile at his enthusiasm as he explains his adventures. He talks about the fun he had with Dex and how Elton keeps sending him reviews for the film. You laugh along with him and are just relieved to be here and somewhat normal with him. Before you know it, two hours have gone by and you can't believe how easy it is to fall into pleasant conversation with him again. Almost like old times. Almost like nothing weird ever happened. When lunch is over, you both walk outside to wait for the car.

As you are standing on the sidewalk waiting, he turns to you and says, "Thank you...for this." You're not sure if he's referring to lunch or doing his make-up for the show or what, but honestly, you don't really care.

"You're welcome." He smiles over at you then gives you a friendly little side hug, squeezing your shoulder as your body squishes into his. The close proximity of his body to yours gives your stomach a familiar fluttering sensation and you resist the urge to pull away, but he releases you quickly just as the car pulls up. You both get in and then drive the fifteen minutes to the studio where the talk show is taped.

As you approach the studio and drive around to the back parking lot, you notice a barrier of sorts with a bunch of people standing behind it and a couple of security guards. You look over at them as you pass, but don't think much else of it. Perhaps there's a movie filming nearby. Taron brings your attention away from them as he pulls into a space.

"We're a bit early, but I'm meeting my assistant and publicist and they should be here already."

"Ok", you respond, smiling over at him. He takes a deep breath and removes his sunglasses to look pointedly at you.

"You ready for this?" He asks, exhaling the breath he just took. You're confused by his question. It's not like this is unfamiliar territory for you.

"Umm, yeah. Why?" Before he can answer, a rush of people crowd the car and your door is opened for you. You grab your bag quickly as the flurry of people gather around you and Taron, ready to rush you both through the parking lot. You are quickly introduced by a woman, presumably Lindsay, to his entourage as his "groomer", and then ushered along with him toward the back door of the building. As you get closer, you hear yells and screams coming from the direction of the crowd of people you saw earlier. Turning your head toward them, you distinctly hear them yelling "Taron!" and see them holding out various posters and signs, hoping for an autograph you suppose. You whip your head back to him to see his reaction, but he is already turned toward them, smiling and waving, but still briskly walking along to the back of the building. The rest of his team have their heads down, so you pull your eyes away from the small crowd and do the same. You also notice that there are a few men across the street with big telephoto cameras taking pictures as you all walk past. Geez, is this what it's always like when he goes out? You're not sure what you expected upon your arrival, but this definitely wasn't it.

Finally inside the building, the rushed paced is slowed a bit and you pause to catch your breath. Taron's eyes land on you, eyebrows raised in a look of concern. You give him a smile and small nod of your head to which he visibly relaxes. He knows you so well. The group is met by a staff person from the show, and then you are all escorted to the green rooms down the main corridor. You, Taron, Lindsay and a man carrying Taron's clothes for the show are all deposited into one room, while the rest of the attendants are shown somewhere else. While Taron chats with Lindsay, the man hangs his clothes up on a clothing rack and exits, and you make your way over to the counter where you assume your work will be done. They are busy talking "shop", going over logistics and schedules and such, so you begin to pull things out of your bag to get set up. When their conversation is finally over and Lindsay makes her exit and closes the door behind her, Taron turns to you and exhales.

"Well, that was interesting", you say as you set your last brush down.

"Yes. You ok? I know how you are with crowds", he asks tentatively.

"Taron I'm fine. I'm not as fragile as you think I am", you insist, not letting on that it did freak you out just a tad.

"I know that, but I still worry", he says, his brows pulled together.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me. I'm just glad we're alone now", you say with a friendly smile.

Without saying a word, he crosses the room to you slowly. Taron stops right in front of you and places his hands against your shoulders. Your eyes lift to his and his voice seems to drop three octaves as he utters the next words that make your knees go weak.

"Me too, because I've been waiting for this all day."


	17. The Interview

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You assist Taron with getting ready for his interview.

"You have?" You ask, gulping down the rush of saliva that just filled your mouth.

"Yes", he says intently, still gazing down at you.

"What do you mean?" Taron's closeness, the intimacy of the small room, his breath inches from your face; all have you feeling quite dizzy. He finally cracks a smile and releases you.

"This!" He says, waving his hands around the space. "Us working together again, me doing this show, all of the big premiers behind me and now I can just relax and enjoy it all!" He says, looking back over at you beaming.

"Oh...I thought you...oh." Why are you disappointed? He tilts his head slightly and presses his brows together.

"What did you-" He can't finish his thought however because at that moment, the door swings open and Lindsay comes breezing back into the room. She informs you both that Taron will be the second guest to appear on the show and that you have approximately an hour and a half to get him ready. Plenty of time. You both thank her and she leaves as swiftly as she came, and you take the opportunity to quickly change the subject. You're not sure what you were expecting to come out of Taron's mouth moments before, but you can't help but feel a bit let down that it was completely innocent. 

"So, what are you wearing for the show?" You ask, appraising him in his tight black jeans and black t-shirt. Although his current outfit is rather flattering to his athletic body type, you know it's not quite appropriate for a nighttime talk show.

"Oh! It's this great Etro ensemble", he says excitedly as he walks over to where the jacket and pants are hanging on the rack. You follow beside him languidly. You have no idea what Etro is, but you assume it's some fancy designer. You watch his eyes light as he runs a hand over the smooth fabric of the deep blue jacket. "This is still all so surreal you know", he says gazing at the outfit. "Designers sending me clothes, going on talk shows to chat about this movie that means so much to me. Sometimes I don't know how I got here...", he says, and you can see a far off look pass over his face. You place your hand over his on the jacket, which causes him to snap out of his trance and look over at you.

"You got here because you deserve every bit of it...and more", you add. Then, realizing you are all but caressing his hand, you quickly pull yours away.

"I'm so glad you're here", he says quietly. He brings a hand up to your face and your pulse quickens at the anticipation of his touch. He then places his forefinger against the tip of your nose and you relax at the familiar gesture.

"Me too. Shall we get to work?" You ask, motioning toward the chair.

"Absolutely", he agrees.

"Oh, you should probably change into the shirt you're going to wear so you don't get make-up on it later."

"Right", he says, turning back toward the clothing rack. He pulls a black shirt off the wooden hanger and hands it to you. You notice that it looks almost identical to the one he's wearing, but figure there must be some sort of designer difference. He's also been wearing his current shirt all day and probably wants to put on a fresh one. You are just starting to wonder why you are holding the shirt when you see his hands go to the hem of the one he's wearing, and start to tug it upward. Your breath stills as you catch the first glimpse of creamy skin and a smattering of hair at his stomach. Once you realize that he's about to remove his shirt right here in front of you, you reluctantly turn your body slightly to the side so that you are not openly staring. You hear the shuffle of fabric and see out of your peripheral vision a vast expanse of peachy skin. Without looking, you hand the shirt to him, but he doesn't take it. Standing there awkwardly with your hand outstretched, you finally look back at him to see why he isn't taking the shirt. He is grinning stupidly at you, and it takes everything in you to keep your eyes trained on his face. "Is this making you uncomfortable?" He asks, finally taking the shirt from you and giving you the one he just removed. The warmth from his body still lingers within the soft fabric.

"No, well, maybe a little", you confess. He laughs and you stubbornly put your hands on your hips. "What?"

"You stood in front of me, practically naked in New York, and THIS makes you uncomfortable?" He asks, gesturing at himself before finally pulling the new shirt over his head. Thank God.

"I don't know, this is different", you say, wringing the shirt in your hands.

"How?" You contemplate this for a moment.

"Well, you were being a stubborn ass then." He juts out his bottom lip, feigning being offended.

"Hmm. Fair point. Well, if that's all it takes...", he says, waggling his eyebrows at you playfully and leaning close. You swat at him with his shirt, the uncomfortable moment thankfully passing.

"Go sit down you", you order, as he breaks out into a huge grin and does as he's told. Once his back is turned, you arrange the shirt onto the now empty hanger, resisting the urge to sniff it. Lord, what is the matter with you? This feeling is dangerously all too familiar. After you've hung up the shirt, you follow him over to the make-up chair where he is already sitting and waiting for you. You look over his face and the memories of him sitting in a chair much like this one, waiting for you to start touching him, become almost overwhelming. You gaze down into his eyes, frozen. You hadn't banked on the fact that this might be a bit too much for you to handle.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

"Everything ok?" He asks, eyes searching yours.

"Mmm hmm", you answer, pulling your gaze away from him to concentrate on the containers and brushes on the counter. You close your eyes briefly and take a couple of short quick deep breaths, not wanting him to see just how frazzled you are. Suddenly, your eyes pop open. This is ridiculous. You are a professional for God's sake. He is just an actor and you are providing a service, just like you've done hundreds of times, nothing more. Except, it is so much more than that. There's so much history between you. But you agreed to do this and you will. You can handle this, you have to. Squaring your shoulders and taking one last deep breath through your nostrils, you turn to face him again and smile when you see his sweet eyes peering up at you. You go into professional mode and start surveying his face, just like you would any actor that you are about to apply cosmetics too. Of course, you know this particular face all too well. But there a few differences since the last time you worked on him. Studying him this close, you notice deeper contours in the planes and angles of his face. His jawline is sharper, if that's even possible, and the curves of his cheekbones are more defined. He's lost weight. Not enough to really be noticeable to the naked eye, but enough that someone who's stared at this face in detail for hours on end for months, would definitely notice. He's also a bit more pale than he was before and he looks tired, not that you can blame him after the month he's had. He has his usual spattering of stubble across his chin and jaw, and that hairline has grown in rather well, even better than when you saw him back in early spring. Your eyes travel up to his eyebrows and you're happy that you don't have to fill them in the way you did when he was playing Elton. His expressive brows are one of your favorite features, although you could say that about every feature of Taron's. Absentmindedly, you run your thumb over his left eyebrow, stopping at the little scar that gently cuts through it. You've always noticed it, but it surprises you that you've never asked him about it, even after all this time. You see that he's watching you intently, so you clear your throat and decide to ask.

"How did you get this?" You ask, now running your thumb gently over the scar.

You see the pull of his adam's apple as he swallows before answering. "Bicycle accident, when I was young", he says serenely. He doesn't offer any other explanation, so you nod your head and drop your hand, resisting the sudden urge to kiss where your thumb just was. Geez, focus. 

After you are satisfied with your appraisal, you pull out a clean paper bib from your bag and gently stuff it into the collar of his shirt. You try to ignore the fact that he is carefully watching your every move; most actors will scroll through their phones or flip through a magazine while you work on them. But not Taron, never Taron, so you don't even bother to ask if he would like his phone. You then select the appropriate shades for him and carefully remove your brushes from their pouch. Finally, you get to work and everything just seems to fall into place, as if no time has passed since you last worked on him. He is quiet while you work, uncharacteristically so, and you wonder briefly if anything is wrong, but you shrug it off and continue to do your job.

Thirty minutes later; after applying foundation, concealer and just the tiniest bit of blush to the tops of his cheekbones, and setting it all with translucent powder, you stand back to examine your work. He watches you, waiting to see if you're done, then glances at himself in the mirror. You turn to the mirror as well and find his eyes. "I think that's good, what do you think?" You ask. 

He answers back, eyes shining at you in the reflection. "It's perfect, thank you." You smile at him and set your brush down, turning your attention toward cleaning up your mess.

"Not hard to perfect upon perfection", you say distractedly, then close your eyes against the impending embarrassment. You press your lips together and look back at his reflection, still gazing at you in the mirrored glass.

"You're amazing", he states simply, and you feel warmth pool in your belly. He then clears his throat and pulls his eyes away from yours, turning them back to his own reflection. "What about this hair though?" He asks, smoothing a hand over it.

"Couldn't hurt to run a comb through it", you say lightly, then pull one from your bag. You go around behind him and tilt his head back toward you slightly. You drag the comb though his hair gently at his scalp in the direction of the natural growth. His head bobs with the motion so you steady him by placing your other hand against his jaw lightly so as not to smudge the foundation there. The stubbly hairs prickle under your fingertips and cause a slight jolt of electricity to buzz through your skin. You glance at him in the mirror and see that his eyes are closed and his mouth has gone a little slack. His breathing has intensified a bit and you wonder if maybe he's fallen asleep. Once you are done combing through his short locks, you pull out a travel size blow dryer and run a bit of warm air over it. Fishing out a can of hairspray, you spritz it sparingly around the top and side, then blow cool air over it with the dryer. Snapping the cap back onto the can has his eyes popping back open, and he looks over at you with a glazed look. "All done!" You announce a little too loudly. You pull the paper from his collar, bundle it up in your hands, then throw it into a nearby trash can.

"Great!" He exclaims just as loud, then moves to get out of the chair. "Guess I better get dressed", he says and you pray that he is not planning to strip out of the rest of his clothes here in front of you. You're pretty sure your heart couldn't take it. As if he's read your mind he adds, "I'll just take these into the bathroom..." He grabs the jacket and pants from the rack then enters the small bathroom in the corner and shuts the door. You exhale loudly, not realizing you'd been holding your breath. Good grief, you need to get it together.

As he changes and you continue to clear the station of your belongings, Lindsay comes back in holding a small black object her hand. You smile over at her but she doesn't return it; she seems to be all business at the moment and you wonder briefly if she knows anything about your past with Taron.

"Where's Taron?" She asks.

"He's just changing", you answer, pointing toward the closed door. "But he's ready other than that."

"Good, because they've moved him up to first guest. He's on in five."

"Oh", you say surprised, and she walks toward you holding the object out.

"When he comes out, can you help him with his mic pack?" She asks, placing it in your now outstretched hand.

"Oh yeah, sure", you reply, gazing at the small battery pack and cord wrapped tightly around it. You've dealt with these before with actors, no big deal.

"Thanks", she says, then sweeps back out of the room. At that moment, the bathroom door opens and Taron steps out in his fresh new outfit, holding his folded pants in his hands. He places them in his bag then stands and holds his hands out, palms facing up.

"How do I look?" He asks and you give him a once over. He's breathtaking as always.

"Great, now take it off", you instruct, moving toward him. He drops his hands and his face falls into a frown.

"Excuse me?" He asks, cocking an eyebrow and you giggle at him.

"I have to put this on you", you say, holding out the pack so he can see.

"Oh, right", he says, then shrugs out of the jacket and lays it carefully over the back of the make-up chair.

"Turn around", you instruct, and he does so. You unwind the cord from the pack and let it fall loosely as you concentrate on the metal clip on the back of the small device. Pulling at the back of his pants, you clip the pack easily onto the waistband, then give it a little tug to make sure it's secure. Once you are satisfied that it is, you pick up the cord and examine his back, trying to decide how best to wind it around to his front. "Lift your left arm", you tell him and he obeys. Holding the cord delicately in your hand, you step under his lifted arm, threading the cord through as you do, and coming around to face him. Being this close to his body, you can feel his warmth and smell his cologne, or body wash, or just...him. You're not sure what it is but it smells of sandalwood and cinnamon, soft and sweet. You involuntarily lick your lips and inhale deeply, sighing out a breath through your nose. Your eyes flick up to his and you see that he's observing you keenly, his eyes a shade darker, brows pulled together slightly. You look down quickly to focus on your task and see that the cord is way too long. "Hold this", you tell him, handing him the end of the cord with the little black circular mic on the end. He does and you give the cord a little slack, then begin to push the excess into the waistband of his pants at his side. As your fingertips make contact with the skin at his hip, you hear him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. Doing your best to ignore that, you step a few inches away to retrieve his jacket from the chair. Holding it out, you indicate for him to push his right arm into the sleeve, which he does. You then wrap your arms around him so that you can pull the jacket around his body. You take the mic back from him so that he can slip his arm into the left sleeve, and then go to work fastening the mic to the lapel of the jacket. Once you feel it is attached properly, you fix the collar of his jacket and smooth it down at the shoulders. Tugging at both lapels slightly, you finally drop your hands and look back up at him. "Good?"

"Mmm yeah", he croaks out, then clears his throat against the graininess you hear in his voice. You stare up at him for a moment, unable or unwilling to move. "Hey, before I go out there, I wanted to ask you something", he says softly, interrupting the silence that's fallen between you. His eyes are returning to their normal color and your breath stills as you wait.

"Yes?" You say with baited breath. Just then, the door swings open once more and you step away from him quickly. Lindsay. This girl really has impeccable timing. His eyes linger on yours a half second longer, then he reluctantly turns away from you.

"Ready?" She asks him.

"Yep, let's do it", he says, making his way toward the door. They are about to take their exit when Lindsay turns back to you.

"Do you want to watch from backstage?" She asks, and you're surprised that she would ask. Your eyes slide to Taron's, asking without asking if he minds. He answers with a smile and a wink, so you nod your head at her. "Come on then", she says hurriedly, stretching her arm out toward you. You follow behind them quickly as they wind their way through hallway after hallway, until you've finally reached the backstage area where you can see a small curtain and the bright stage lights beyond. You hear the rumble of hushed conversations from what sounds like hundreds of voices, and your stomach begins to churn at the thought of going out there in front of all those staring faces. Thank God it isn't you. Taron steps away to do a mic check and you peek through the tiny crack in the curtain to try and get a look at the stage. You can just make out the desk where the host sits, along with the chair next to it for guests, but you can't see the audience from your viewpoint. You feel a hand at your back which makes you jump slightly.

"You ok?" Taron asks, looming in front of you in the darkened space.

"I'm fine", you assure him. Suddenly there is the sound of applause, the lights get brighter and you hear the host speaking through the monitors backstage. You immediately back away from the curtain and watch as Taron steps forward to wait for his cue.

The host's voice grows louder as you hear him announce, "Taron Egerton!" and the crowd erupts into screaming, whistling and clapping. He takes one quick glance at you, shoots you a brilliant smile, then the curtains are drawn and he steps through. The sound of the roaring applause grows even louder after he's gone through, and you think you even hear someone whistle a cat-call of sorts. Lindsay, standing on the other side of the curtain in the shadows, motions you over to stand with her so you step closer, careful not to be seen by the audience. A good rule of thumb is, if you can see them, they can see you, so you are careful not to be seen. You can just barely make him out as he sits, ready to be interviewed by the host. The applause and cheers die down, and you listen and watch intently, thrilled to be actually witnessing him give an interview.

The first thing Mr. Kimmel asks about is Taron's hair, mentioning the fact that he was bald the last time he was here. You think back and can't remember a time when he was fully bald, so you assume it was after Rocketman wrapped. Taron confirms that fact seconds later but doesn't mention anymore about it so you make a mental note to ask him when you are alone. Listening to him talk about shaving his head and thinning out his hair brings you back to the time when you first shaved his head at his apartment. You smile at the memory and long for those simpler days. The fact that he was so anxious about it, and hearing him admit he was nervous that it wouldn't grow back, just reaffirms how committed he was to the role. As if there was ever any doubt. He regales his story of the Cannes Premier with Elton, and you are stricken once again with regret that you weren't able to accompany him there. Especially when he talks about the fact that he could've been booed, and knowing first hand how worried he was. It just makes you realize how truly nervous he must've been, and how perhaps your presence could've helped, even in some small way. But then you remember that Ashley was there and she should be the one to calm his nerves, not you. That thought depresses you a bit, but you are determined not to let it ruin this moment as you continue to listen and watch. Hearing about his experience and how incredibly moved he was that Elton not only approved, but was equally as moved about the movie makes your heart burst with pride for him, and your smile stretches wide across your face. 

When he talks about his uncle's reaction at a theater in his hometown during the love scene between him and Richard, you audibly snort with laughter and immediately slap your hand over your mouth. Lindsay turns to look at you, but says nothing. At his mention of the Bennie and the Jets scene, your mind is taken back to a dark storage closet where he was half dressed and sweaty, and you suddenly feel very warm. There are so many memories, both good and bad that you and he share. Sometimes you forget that you have them stored away in the recesses of your mind until they come hurtling back at you in the most inopportune times. Bringing yourself back to the present, you focus once again on the interview. You love that when he starts to talk about how he did all his own singing, he is obviously proud of that fact, and rightfully so. You also doubt very much that he was "dreadful" as he puts it when it came to the more rock type songs, and you shake your head at his humility. The part about the interview that warms your heart the most is when he talks about the friendship and lasting bond he's built with Elton John. It makes you remember what this whole thing has been about; playing tribute to a brilliant man that you hope one day to have the privilege to meet as well. But for now you're just happy to listen to the man who portrayed him talk about ornamental cats, watch his eyes light up at any mention of Elton and enjoy his overall exuberance at talking about what he loves.

Before you know it, the host is saying his thank you's to Taron and the interview is over. The audience applauds again and the lights dim slightly as the taping is paused. Taron stands as Jimmy comes around the front of his desk to shake Taron's hand, and then they pose for a few pictures. Afterwards, Taron is whisked backstage by a stagehand to be met by you and Lindsay waiting in the wings. The three of you are rushed back to the green room where Lindsay removes his mic pack, then leaves the two of you alone to go and return it from wherever it came from. Taron turns to you and is all smiles.

"What'd you think?" He asks, his eyes brightening in anticipation of your answer. You are equally smiling wildly as you reply.

"I thought it was fantastic! I'm so glad I was able to be here", you tell him honestly.

"Good, because...I want to ask you something", he says, walking the short distance to you and placing his hands on your shoulders once again. With all the excitement you had almost forgotten he was about to ask you something earlier when you were interrupted by Lindsay. Praying that she doesn't choose this moment to come bursting in again, you look up into his eyes, waiting intently.

"Ok..."

"I wanted to ask you if...you'll come to New York with me."


	18. Don't Go Breaking My Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You spend time with Taron while trying to make a decision.

"New York?" As in tomorrow?" You ask dumbfounded. Will you ever not be surprised by the things that come out of this man's mouth? He laughs a little, then shrugs out of his jacket and folds it over his arm while continuing to stare at you.

"Yes, New York as in tomorrow. You can do my make-up again and then we can watch the Premier together. Then you won't have to worry about seeing it here by yourself." Who said you were going to see it by yourself?

"But it's so last minute, I don't have time...", you trail off, not really knowing how to finish that sentence.

"You're done with work for now right?" He asks.

"Yes, but, I don't time to pack..." He laughs again.

"It's one night, I think you can probably manage."

"I don't have a plane ticket", you say, and realize you are running out of excuses.

"Lindsay can get you a ticket. That's not a problem." You sigh, knowing you don't really have a real reason not to go. Other than your usual old fears and worries about spending too much time with him.

"I'm not sure it's a good idea Taron", you finally admit.

"Ok, you can't keep saying things aren't a good idea if we've proved that they are. Look at today. You have to admit that it worked out great, you said so yourself", he says, finally leaving your side to go and hang up his jacket. Your eyes follow him but you stay rooted to your spot. Is he right? Is it possible that you could actually make a professional relationship with him work?

"Where would I stay?" You ask, the planner in you thinking of all the logistics.

"In my hotel of course", he answers nonchalantly. He finishes with the jacket, then looks over at you in a slight state of shock at realizing the implication of the words he just spoke.

"Excuse me?" You ask, just as surprised.

"I mean in another room, in my hotel. I'll have Lindsay make the arrangements", he says, effectively playing it off.

"I don't want her to have to go to all that trouble", you protest and he laughs once more at you.

"That's her job", he says, returning to you. Now standing in front of you again, his eyes plead with yours and you already know what's about to happen when he murmurs, "Please?" Damn.

"Is...Ashley going to be there?" You hate that you're asking, but you also know that you have to.

"No", he replies simply, but you see a look of pain flash across his eyes. Is that for you or her?

"Can you give me a few hours to think about it?" You ask, not wanting to give in just yet.

"Sure", he agrees, then goes to his bag to gather up his clothes from earlier. "So what shall we do while we wait for you to "think about it"? He asks using air quotes, and you feel like you should be offended, but of course you aren't.

"What?" You ask, assuming you'd just be going home to "think about it".

"I'm not letting you out of my sight until you decide, so, what shall we do?" He asks again and you think this over.

"Well, I am a bit hungry... You?"

"Starving", he agrees. "But I'm not really in the mood to go sit inside another restaurant. Is there anything we can grab and then just go somewhere quiet?"

"Hmm, I think I might know a place", you say, recalling a particular local landmark that might do just the trick. "Burgers sound good?" You ask.

"Perfect", he replies before shooting you a toothy grin. He then disappears into the bathroom, presumably to change into what we was wearing before. You smile at the closed door then begin to gather up your supplies.

A few minutes later, you are both all packed up and ready to leave the studio. Lindsay pops her head in one more time to ask if Taron needs anything else before she and the rest of his team head out.

"Yes Lindsay, can we speak outside for a moment?" He asks her, and she steps back out into the hallway to accommodate him. You cock your head at them and then stand there like a fool waiting for them to finish their conversation, trying your best not to eavesdrop. Only a few minutes go by before he is back inside and smiling at you. "Ready?" He asks.

"Yep." The two of you make your way down the maze of halls one last time before heading out to the parking lot to his car. A couple of security guards escort you out, and you suddenly remember the screaming fans from before and start to wonder if they will still be there. Once you've exited the building, you are relieved to see that they are in fact out of sight. The sun is hanging low in the sky, but it's not quite sunset yet as you approach the car and throw your bag inside. You'd like it to be dark to fully enjoy where you plan to take Taron, so you decide that you "need" something back at your apartment. "Mind if we go by apartment real quick so I can grab something?" You ask him as he settles himself into the driver's side and prepares to start the vehicle.

"Not at all", he replies, smiling over at you.

It's quiet on the short drive to your apartment. You thought you'd need to give Taron directions since he's only been there one other time and he wasn't even driving then, but he seems to remember the way. Once you've arrived and he's put the car in park, you wonder if you should ask him to wait here or accompany you upstairs. It occurs to you that it might be a bit awkward to return to the scene of your last romantic encounter with him. You don't have to wonder for long however when he unbuckles his seatbelt and gets out of the car. Without saying a word, the two of you climb the stairs to your little apartment, much like you did after your unexpected tryst in the car that night. The similarity is not lost on you and you wonder if Taron is recalling it as well. A quick glance at the slight apprehension on his face confirms that he probably is. Unlocking the door and stepping inside with Taron a few paces behind, you drop your bag on the table and motion for him to have a seat on the couch.

"I'll be right back", you state and then disappear into your bedroom area without looking back to see what he does. You go to the tiny little space in one corner that serves as your closet and start rifling through it. Should you change? You look down at your plain jeans and t-shirt and decide against that. Pulling back hangers in your closet, your hands finally land on a jacket shoved into the very back. Taron's jacket. The one he lent you on the set of Mama Cass' house back in England that you just conveniently never gave back. You think it over for a moment as you run your hands over the soft material; it was a bit chilly outside now that the sun is setting and it couldn't hurt to have a jacket. What the hell...you think, as you pull the jacket from the hanger and slip it over your shoulders. Maybe he won't even notice. Maybe. As you are leaving your bedroom, your eyes land on a soft grey throw you keep at the foot of your bed in case you get cold at night. Without giving it much thought, you snatch up the blanket and head back out into the main living area. Taron stands abruptly as you enter and his eyes sweep over you, finally landing on the blanket piled in your hands.

"What is that for?" He asks suspiciously, one eyebrow raised.

"You'll see", you say coyly, and keep walking past him. His eyebrow arches even further as you pass, and you turn your head to keep him from seeing the smile tugging at your lips.

"Hey", he says from behind you and you freeze. "Isn't that...my jacket?" He says as he comes up behind you and places his hands on your shoulders to turn you around to face him. You swallow and look up at him.

"Yes? I guess I kinda never gave it back", you say with hesitation, but he smiles and you relax.

"That's ok", he says chuckling. "I'm glad to see that you kept it." As if you would get rid of it? You simply smile back at him, then turn around to exit the apartment.

Once back in the car, he turns to you and says, "Where to my lady?"

"Well, burgers...In and Out?" You ask, thinking that they have the best fast food burgers that you can think of.

"In and what?" He asks. "Never heard of it."

"Oh Taron, good lord. We definitely need to go then. You can't go to L.A. and not have an "In and Out" burger. At least once", you add dramatically.

"Whatever you say, lead the way!" He exclaims and you proceed to give him directions to the nearest location. Once burgers and shakes are safely tucked into the backseat, you then give him directions to Mulholland Drive and your intended destination. You pass several scenic overlooks as the road twists and turns multiple times, but you are looking for a very specific one. Finally you spot it and instruct Taron to turn into it. He starts to park the car in the obvious spot where the overlook is but you stop him.

"No keep going, just turn in here", you say, pointing in the not-so-obvious direction. "There's a little dirt road off this main area that you can drive down into and get a better view." He does as he's told and drives for another quarter of a mile down what appears to be a deserted road, then he finally speaks.

"Lord woman. Where are you taking me? Are you bringing me down here to kidnap me or something?" He asks sarcastically. If only.

"Ha ha", you reply, and it's at this moment that the most amazing sight comes into view. And one that still takes your breath away, even after all these years. "Stop here", you instruct and he does, then gazes out of the windshield.

"Oh my God...this is...amazing", he exclaims, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.

"See? I told you", you say grinning, then step out of the vehicle. Taron turns the engine off but leaves the radio on, then follows you around to the front of the car to get an even better look. There in front of you, spread out as far as the eye can see in the darkening sky with the last remaining pink and orange hues from the sunset, is a brilliant scene of the dazzling lights of Hollywood, set amongst the rolling hills of the canyon beyond.

"This. Is. Absolutely. Stunning." He says, and you beam over at him with pride.

"Food?" You ask. You then head back toward the car to grab the blanket while he collects the bags of food and drinks. You lean inside before heading back and tune the radio to a classic rock station that you sometimes listen to when you don't want to worry with your own tunes. You turn it up so that it can be heard from the front of the car, then walk back to where Taron is waiting and spread the blanket down in front of it. The two of you sit cross-legged and unpack the food, then start to dig in hastily. You really were hungry and apparently so was Taron as you both devour your meals within minutes. He leans back onto his palms, sighs heavily and takes in the view once more.

"This really is amazing", he says looking out over the lights. "Do I even want to know how you know about this place?" He asks with a smirk, and you suddenly realize that this is a prime spot for "parking".

"Very funny", you reply. "My parents used to take me here when I was a kid. We'd grab burgers and a blanket, then head out here to have a picnic and look at the lights. Best free entertainment around", you say, recalling the memory fondly. You haven't been to this place in a very long time, in fact, you've never come here with anyone other than your parents, not even Anthony.

"Well I'm honored you would bring me here", he says, pulling you from your thoughts. "Perfect end to a perfect day", he adds as he stretches out onto his back and clasps his hands behind his head. You watch him for a moment, then imitate his gesture and do the same. You are both staring up into the night sky, trying to locate the few dotted stars amongst the bright lights from the city, and listening to the Eagles sing something about a witchy woman. You have to admit, this day has been pretty close to perfect. After a few minutes of pleasant silence, Taron speaks up softly. His voice sounds so relaxing even though his words are anything but. "So what's up with that Ethan guy?" Your heart stammers a little in your chest. You weren't expecting to have to talk about that.

"Oh, Ethan? Nothing, he's just a co-worker", you explain, hoping that will be the end of it. Of course it isn't though, this is Taron you're talking to after all.

"But, isn't he the guy you had coffee with?"

"Yeah...so?" You ask, trying to hide the annoyance in your voice.

"Nothing, it just seemed like...maybe...I think he likes you." Your breath stills. The subject of Ethan's feelings for you already makes you uncomfortable, but talking about him to Taron is downright awkward as hell. You turn your head over to look at him and wait for your eyes to adjust so that you can see his face more clearly. It's gotten rather dark and you don't like the fact that you can't read his facial expressions very well.

"Yeah maybe, it doesn't really matter", you say, dismissing this fact completely.

"Do you like him?" He asks with little emotion in his voice. Just a matter-of-fact question, as if he's asking how you like your coffee.

"No", you state simply, turning your head back up to the sky. There's a pause and you wonder if he's satisfied with your answer. His voice comes out of the darkness again.

"What did he mean when he said that thing about your heart?" Shit, you had hoped he'd forgotten about that part.

"I don't know Taron. Ethan says a lot of dumb shit, I try my best to just ignore it most of the time."

"Does he know about...us? I mean, our history?" He asks, apparently not letting this go. You sigh and decide to tell him the truth, which isn't much.

"I may have mentioned you, yes." When he doesn't say anything, you look back over at him to find him staring at you. You can't see much, but you can tell he's waiting for you to elaborate. "I just mentioned that you and I were...involved before. And that I wasn't ready to date anyone just yet." You watch as he gazes back up at the stars and you can make out the slight pull of his throat as he swallows.

"I see." That's it?

At that moment, a familiar tune comes drifting over the car speakers and it pulls you from your thoughts and unease at the uncomfortable situation. You've become quite the Elton John buff since leaving England and you know most of his more popular tunes very well at this point. It's the beginning of "Don't Go Breaking My Heart", and as soon as you recognize it, you swivel your head over to Taron to see if he's recognized it as well. Of course he has, and you watch as a huge grin splits across his face.

"Oh my God!" He exclaims, right before turning to you and breaking out into song, belting out the lyrics along with Elton.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

You answer with the next lyric, horribly out of tune but you don't care.

"I couldn't if I tried"

Taron sings the next line, perfectly in tune of course.

"Honey, if I get restless"

You answer right back with the next lyric, smiling widely at him.

"Baby, you're not that kind"

Taron rolls over onto his stomach and scoots closer to you as you continue to sing the lyrics back and forth to each other, singing in turn along with Elton and Kiki.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

"You take the weight off me"

"Oh, honey, when you knock on my door"

"Ooh, I gave you my key"

Right before the next part, Taron stands quickly, then pulls you to your feet just as fast, the sudden movement making you a bit unsteady. He holds onto your hands and leads you off the blanket to dance around with you as you both keep singing along with the upbeat song.

"Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it  
When I was down  
I was your clown"

"Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it, nobody knows  
Right from the start  
I gave you my heart  
Oh oh, I gave you my heart"

Taron is now twirling you around as you sing, and it reminds you of when you were a kid and you would spin and spin and spin until you got so dizzy you couldn't stand straight. You are laughing along with him, singing at the top of your lungs and clinging to him desperately so that you can stay upright.

"So don't go breaking my heart  
I won't go breaking your heart  
Don't go breaking my heart"

During the short interlude of the song, he pulls you in close and you are thankful that at least the relentless twirling has stopped. His arms wrap around your waist and his chin tucks into your shoulder as your hands grip onto his upper arms, and you wait for the world to slowly stop spinning. You continue to sing along, but at a much less exuberant pace as you both try and catch your breath from the exertion.

"And nobody told us  
'Cause nobody showed us  
And now it's up to us, babe  
Whoa, I think we can make it"

He then pulls his head away to look at you and hold you at arms length. It's like an awkward middle school dance where there is at least a foot between your bodies, and you both sway lazily around the grass in small circles as you sing more quietly but still just as enthusiastically.

"So don't misunderstand me  
You put the light in my life  
Oh, you put the spark to the flame  
I've got your heart in my sights"

Taron takes your right hand in more of a traditional dancing stance, keeping his right hand around your waist. You accept this new position and just hope that he doesn't start the twirling again. Luckily, you just continue to make slow circles across the ground.

"Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it  
When I was down  
I was your clown  
Ooh-hoo, nobody knows it, nobody knows  
Right from the start  
I gave you my heart  
Oh oh, I gave you my heart"

Taron then decides to dip you in a most dramatic fashion, tilting you upside down as he sings the next verse directly over your face.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

You try your best in your awkward inverted position to sing the next line, but it comes out terribly garbled and causes you to burst out laughing halfway through it.

"I won't go breaking your heart"

He begins to laugh along with you and can barely get his line out before you are both tumbling to the ground in a fit of giggles.

"Don't go breaking my heart"

The song starts into its long interlude as you both gasp for air and crawl back to the blanket to throw yourselves onto it, you collapsing onto your back, and Taron propping his chin onto his hands in front of him as he lies on his stomach. As the last remaining notes and lyrics are sung without yours and Taron's accompaniment, you both slowly bring your breathing back to normal again. Once you've finally caught your breath and your chest is no longer heaving, you clear your throat to speak.

"Yes", you say simply, staring up at the black sky. You can see out of your side vision, that Taron lifts his head from his hands and looks over at you.

"What?" He asks, and you turn your head toward him.

"Yes", you repeat. "I'll go to New York." You watch as a slow wide smile stretches across his face, and wait for the impending joy to follow.

But Taron plays it cool this time and simply says, "See? I knew it would work."

"You knew what would work?" You ask, eyeing him suspiciously.

"I knew that if I stayed with you all night you would agree. All it took was a little food, scenery and Elton", he says, flashing you his best cocky smile.

"Um, I think the food and scenery was MY idea...and Elton was just a happy coincidence", you say playfully.

"Still...I'll take it", he says, popping your nose with his index finger, a little firmer than usual. You just shake your head at him and stretch your hands over your head.

"Well, if I'm really going, I guess I need to get home and pack", you say, bringing yourself to a sitting position. He follows your movement and pulls himself onto his knees. "And you probably need to let Lindsay know so she can make the arrangements", you add. You watch him, waiting for him to confirm this, but he just bites his lip and looks up at you from under long eyelashes.

"I kinda already did", he says sheepishly.

"Huh?" You ask, gathering the bags of trash.

"I already told her to make them, back at the studio." So that's what their little pow-wow was about, but you're still confused.

"But I hadn't agreed yet."

"I know, I was just really hoping you would so I told her to go ahead and plan for it." You stare at him for a moment then roll your eyes dramatically.

"You're really unbelievable, you know that?" You retort, but in a joking way.

"And that's why you love me!" He says, just as playfully. But you stop, frozen on the spot and stare at him, your heart decidedly beating a little faster. "Umm, sorry. I didn't mean that...", he says, looking as though he feels mortified. You swallow and force a smile. It was just an awkward slip, no big deal...

"It's fine", you say reassuringly. "Let's get going ok? Early flight right?"

"Yep!" He says, a little too enthusiastically, then helps you retrieve the rest of the garbage and fold up the blanket. Once back in the car and onto the main road again, he turns to you and asks quietly, "Back to your place then?"

"I need to get my car. It's still at the studio", you answer.

"Right." There's a strange pause then, "Long day huh?" You sigh and gaze back over at him.

"Yes, long...but good." He smiles over at you then continues on to the studio. After you've turned into the deserted parking lot and he's pulled up to your lone car parked in the middle, you both clamber out of the vehicle, the blanket wrapped up in your arms. You unlock your car and throw it into the backseat, then close the door and turn around to face Taron, leaning on the door as you do. He stands there awkwardly in front of you with his hands shoved into his pockets and kicks lazily at a pebble on the ground.

"So the flight is at 7:00 am. I'll pick you up around 5?" He asks, and you are already dreading the early morning wake-up call.

"Sure, sounds good", you agree.

"Ok great. Well I guess, I'll see you in a few hours then", he says grinning slightly, then pulls his hands out of his pockets and leans in a little closer. "This really was a perfect day. Thank you", he says quietly as he places his hands on your shoulders to pull you in for a quick hug. You feel him start to pull away almost immediately and for some reason, you hold him in place a little longer. When he realizes you are still clinging to him, he melts into you further and sighs as he presses his body close. It's been a long time since you've had a proper Taron hug and you'd almost forgotten how truly wonderful they are. The heat from his body and the way it perfectly forms with yours still makes your insides feel tingly and warm. You finally release him and as he pulls back slowly, his eyes flutter closed and he tilts his head toward yours. Shit.

You push back lightly on his chest and mutter, "Taron, don't ruin it." His eyes pop open and he stammers back a few inches away from you. He stares at you in horror for a moment, then goes to your side and leans back against the car next to you. He runs his hands over his face and through his hair then looks up at the sky, and you take the opportunity to calm your racing heart at what could've just happened.

"You're not coming to New York now right? Why do I keep fucking this up?" He asks, exhaling a heavy breath.

"Did I say that?" You ask, looking over at him. He drops his head to look back at you.

"You are?" He asks, sounding completely surprised.

"I said I would, and I will", you answer resolutely.

"But I just..." He doesn't finish but he doesn't have to.

"We've all been there Taron", you say, thinking back to your drunken rendezvous with Richard. Although Taron is completely sober at the moment, but still, he's not the only one that's made mistakes. "Don't be so hard on yourself."

"You really are amazing, you know that?" He says, grinning sideways at you.

"I don't know about that. But I really should get home", you say in a rush, feeling the need to get away from him before you do anything stupid.

"Ok, be safe and I'll see you in the morning", he says, stepping away from the car so he can open your car door for you. After you're settled inside, you pull away from the parking lot and notice in your rear view mirror that Taron is still standing next to his car, watching you drive away. As you make your way home to pack and catch a few hours of sleep before you're off to New York again, you realize you should be excited about the trip and finally getting to see the much anticipated movie. Instead, all you can think about is that you truly hope you're not making a huge mistake, yet again.


	19. Back to New York

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return to NYC with Taron for the Rocketman Premier.

You hardly sleep at all that night. After taking an hour to agonize over what to pack for one night away, showering, and then staying up well into the night worrying about whether you're making a mistake by going, you barely get in two hours of sleep. Finally giving up around 4:00 am, you drag yourself out of bed to get yourself ready; opting for a pair of skinny jeans, an oversized ivory flowy blouse and peep-toe booties. You notice that the bottom edge of the right heel has come apart at the corner from the main part. Time to get new shoes apparently, but they will do for now. Your outfit is a little dressier than your usual jeans and t-shirt look for work, but you always thought it was better to look nice when flying. You're not really sure why. Probably something to do with your mom feeling that way as well. It could also have something to do with whom you are flying with, but you ignore that detail. You apply a bit of light make-up, being sure to pay a little extra attention on the slightly darkened circles under your eyes, and pull your hair up into a stylish "messy" bun. You're all packed and ready to go by 4:45, so you decide to walk to the coffee shop that is just a block away, knowing that they open at 4:00 and that you will be needing an extra does of caffeine today.

It's eerily quiet in the dark and empty early morning streets. The sun hasn't even begun to rise and without a single car passing by, it's almost as if you're the only person left in the city. It's actually quite cathartic and you make a mental note to consider early morning jogs from now on. You immediately chuckle at yourself, knowing that the ONLY reason you would ever willingly get up this early is if Taron Egerton was coming to pick you up to whisk you away somewhere exciting. Thinking of Taron brings you back to memories of your time together yesterday and how it was almost ruined at the end. How could he even have thought about kissing you? What would've happened if you'd let him? The worst part is that you wanted him to. God, you really wanted him to. You shake that thought from your head as you enter the coffee shop, and the lone barista behind the counter looks up to smile sleepily at you. You order drinks with extra shots of espresso for yourself, then stand at the counter to wait. You pull your phone out to check the time and see that you have a text from Taron.

Taron: Good morning sunshine. Be there in 5.

Crap. That text was sent five minutes ago. Luckily the barista hands you the drink tray with the coffees so you take them, thank her, then head off quickly back in the direction of your apartment. You are slightly out of breath from your brisk walk and quick sprint up the stairs all while balancing the coffees, when you reach your door to find Taron leaning against it, looking down at his phone. He wears a troubled expression until he looks up when he hears you, and instantly the features of his face relax as he smiles shyly at you.

"Hey", you say, still catching your breath.

"Hey. I thought you...nevermind. Where were you?" He asks, eyeing the coffees.

"Woke up early so I thought I'd grab us coffee", you reply, pulling his out of the holder and handing it out to him.

"Oh, thank you", he says as he accepts it. "You ready?"

"Yes, just need to get my bags", you say, indicating the door. He steps aside to let you unlock the door and enter the apartment, then follows you inside. Your two bags are placed neatly beside the door, one overnight rolling bag and your make-up bag of course. His jacket is still draped across the sofa where you dropped it last night and he motions to it.

"Need this?" He asks, making a move to retrieve it.

"No, I have one in my bag", you answer, slinging your make-up bag over your shoulder.

"Oh, ok", he says, sounding slightly disappointed. "Here, I'll take that", he says, motioning toward the bag weighing down your arm.

"It's ok, I've got it. You can get that one", you reply, pointing to the rolling bag. He nods, then picks up the handle to carry it down the two flights of stairs. You lock your door and then follow him down.

Once your luggage is stowed in the trunk and the two of you are settled comfortably into Taron's rental car, your coffees placed safely in the cup holders, he turns to you and gives you a tight smile before starting the car.

"Ok, I have to ask and then I won't bring it up again..." Uh oh. You hold your breath, waiting.

"Ok...", you respond, looking over at him warily.

"Are we ok?" He looks so worried, his eyebrows are pulled together and he's chewing slightly on his lip. The dark circles under his eyes match your own, and you figure he must not have gotten much rest either. You let out your breath in a slight whoosh of air.

"We're fine", you assure him.

"Are you sure?" He asks hesitantly.

"I'm sure", you confirm, but he's still staring at you as if you're a ticking time bomb. "Yesterday was great. We can just forget about that little insignificant detail at the end." He frowns at this which makes you stare back at him in confusion. "What?"

"Nothing", he answers, turning his head forward as he starts the car and pulls out of the complex parking lot. You stare at him for a moment longer, then shrug slightly and gaze out the window at the still strangely vacant L.A. roads. Thirty minutes later, you arrive at LAX and the two of you make your way through the nearly deserted airport. Apparently you've never flown this early because you can't recall a time when the airport was so devoid of activity. After breezing through security, you both sit to wait for boarding to begin and you decide this might be a good time to revisit your earlier conversation. Something still doesn't seem to be sitting right with Taron and you want to be sure and clear the air before you take flight.

"Taron?" You ask, turning toward him in your seat.

"Yes?" He answers back, gazing into your eyes. You open your mouth to speak again when you see someone approaching from your peripheral vision. Turning your head in their direction, you see Lindsay walking toward you briskly, holding a coffee cup in one hand, and a designer oversized bag in the other. This woman really does have amazingly bad timing. You had also completely forgotten that she would be traveling with the two of you today.

"They're boarding first class, you ready?" She asks, addressing only Taron. Then her eyes slide over to you as if she's just now noticing you sitting here. You give her a brief smile to which she does not return, but acknowledges you with a slight nod of her head. You know her slightly off-putting demeanor isn't personal, she's just all business, which you can respect. Taron gives you a disappointed look, as if he really wanted to continue the conversation, then reluctantly stands and you do the same. It suddenly occurs to you that you might not be sitting with him on the plane. Your ticket was procured so last minute, you may be somewhere back in coach, not that you'd know what you were missing by not being in first class anyway. But admittedly, you were looking forward to several hours of "alone" time with Taron.

However, upon boarding the aircraft with Lindsay leading the way, she continues on to the fourth row of first class seats as Taron stops at the third row and announces, "This is us." He takes your make-up bag from you and places it in the overhead bin, then waits for you to slide into the seat next to the window. You watch him as he takes his seat next to you, then stashes his own bag under his seat. You have to admit, sitting in first class is rather nice. The extra leg room alone makes it worth it. You buckle your seatbelt, check to see if you have any last minute emails or texts, which of course you don't, then put your phone in airplane mode and stash it away. Clasping your hands together in your lap, you look over at Taron to find him watching you keenly. You're not sure why, maybe it's the need to release the palpable tension in the air, but you blurt out the first thing that comes to mind.

"You know, the last time I was on a plane, I watched your movie." His eyebrows furrow as he looks at you, apparently perplexed by your statement.

"Which one?" He asks.

"Robin Hood", you state, as if this is obvious. His brows scrunch deeper and the creases in his forehead become more defined.

"Oh, I didn't realize they were showing it on flights... And?" He asks cautiously, propping his chin into his hand on the armrest which brings his face much closer to yours.

"Well, it was a different interpretation on the classic story I guess. More modernized. But it was definitely entertaining", you assure him.

"Well that's one way to put it I guess", he says sarcastically.

"Did you not think it turned out well?" You ask. He thinks this over for a moment before answering.

"I guess it just wasn't exactly the movie that I signed up to make", he finally answers stoically.

"Oh?" You ask, leaning toward him and listening to him intently.

"Yes. Unfortunately, it was pitched to me in a different way. I think it was made by a committee and it just lost its vision. I wasn't very happy on set...I didn't have a very happy time making it", he says, looking somewhere past your eyes as if he's recalling the unpleasant memories.

"Oh, I'm sorry", you say, and you truly are. It's hard to imagine him being unhappy on set after witnessing his joy during Rocketman.

"It's ok. Rocketman more than made up for it", he says, giving you a little wink and you smile stupidly at him. You then remember something else.

"Wait, is that when you were on Jimmy Kimmel before? Promoting Robin Hood?"

"Yes", he confirms but doesn't add anything further.

"And you were bald then?" You ask, suddenly remembering you had meant to ask him about it before. He chuckles a little at this.

"Yes. I wore a hat on the show but yes, I was bald."

"Why?" You ask, searching his eyes.

"Well it was becoming quite the mess. It was orange and shaved back and growing out weird, so I just decided to start from scratch and shave it all off. I guess I needed a fresh start after Rocketman wrapped. After everything that happened...", he adds, and unfortunately you think you understand his meaning all too well.

"Oh", you say, pulling your head back and looking down at your lap.

"Hey", he says, leaning close and finding your eyes again. "It's ok. It grew back and everything is good now, right?" He doesn't say the words but you know he's talking about more than just his hair. You assume he's referring to the relationship you and him are developing. Friendship or colleagues, or whatever the hell you are now. You swallow and exhale through your nose before responding.

"Yes. Everything's good now", you reassure him with a smile, but you're not sure you've convinced yourself. "But, I would like to see you bald", you add with a grin.

"I don't think that's going to happen again anytime soon", he says chuckling. At this you push your bottom lip out and he grins. "Not unless something catastrophic happens", he adds with another wink.

"Fair enough", you say, resigned. The flight attendant stops by at that moment and distracts Taron by asking him if he'd like a pillow. You continue to watch him as he interacts with her and the sudden rush of affection you feel for him overwhelms you. You don't know why exactly, but sometimes when you look at Taron, you know that you would go to the ends of the earth and back for him. It comes out of nowhere and sucker punches you in the gut, leaving you breathless. You know what it is, but you're not willing to say the words, even in your own head. Not anymore. They both turn to you and you realize you've been asked a question. Shaking your head slightly to clear it from your thoughts, you answer in the affirmative, assuming you've been asked if you would like a pillow as well. She smiles and leaves, then Taron turns his attention back to you.

"I don't know about you but I'm exhausted." Hearing him say this causes a yawn to escape your lips and you cover your mouth and then giggle.

"Me too. I didn't sleep very well last night", you admit.

"Me neither. Not a wink actually. Couldn't stop my mind from racing." You assume he's referring to the upcoming premier, but you don't ask in case it's something else. The flight attendant returns with two pillows and informs you that the plane will be taking off soon. You make sure your seatbelt is properly tightened then adjust the pillow under your head while Taron does the same. He adjusts his in a way that he's only resting on one corner of it, his head turned in your direction. "Hey, what were you going to ask me? Before at the gate...", he asks lazily, stifling a yawn.

"Oh nothing...I was just wondering if we were sitting together", you lie. Why bring up the kiss again? He nods his head in understanding.

"Ok, well I'm glad you're here", he all but whispers before giving you a small smile and letting his eyelids flutter closed.

"Me too...", you whisper back.

Several minutes later, you are still watching the steady slow rhythm of his chest rising and falling and the rapid movements of his eyes behind closed eyelids as the plane takes off, carrying you and Taron back to New York.

Many hours later, after arriving in New York, collecting your baggage and meeting the driver that Lindsay has arranged for you, you are feeling somewhat more refreshed and re-energized having finally nodded off on the plane. You hadn't realized just how tired you actually were until the wheels bumping along the runway had woken you, and you had opened your eyes to find Taron smiling over at you. You were looking forward to spending some time chatting with him on the plane so you're a little bummed that you had ended up sleeping the entire time.

Once settled into the vehicle, Lindsay and the driver in the front and you and Taron in the back, he turns to you and speaks in a low voice.

"So...I meant to ask you this on the plane but I guess we were both pretty tired...", he trails off as if that's the end of his statement. As usual, your heartbeat doubles its pace whenever Taron says something like that.

"Ok..."

"So, since the Jimmy Kimmel show went so well, and if tonight goes well, which I'm sure it will...I was wondering if...", he stops again and your patience wears thin.

"Just say it Taron", you say a little too loudly and glance in Lindsay's direction, but she seems to be oblivious to the conversation. He takes a deep breath before speaking again.

"I was wondering if you'd consider coming to work with me full time", he finally says in a rush of words.

"What??" You breathe out, not quite believing what you just heard.

"I want you to come work with me, doing my make-up for events like this. I think the technical term is called "male groomer", he says, using air quotes and lifting his eyes to the ceiling before smiling sheepishly at you.

"Yes, I know what the term means. But my job-" He cuts you off quickly.

"No, no. I don't mean for you to quit your job. It would just be for the Summer. You're on hiatus right?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"Do you have anything else going on?" He interrupts, looking hesitantly at you. You think this over.

"No, not really. Just my birthday, but no plans..." you trail off and his eyes light up.

"Oh? What day?" He asks and you wonder what he's thinking.

"June 24th", you respond then wait for his reaction. You can practically see the wheels in his head spinning, but he doesn't say anything more about it.

"Hmm, ok. Then how about it?" He asks, studying you and you feel like there's a giant spotlight on your head. You really wish you were having this conversation in private. Your eyes slide over to Lindsay and his follow, seeming to read your thoughts. "Lindsay already knows about this if that's what you're worried about", he says leaning close and speaking in a hushed tone.

"She does?" You ask, surprised.

"Yes, we talked it over when you were sleeping on the plane and she thinks it's a great idea", he confirms which surprises you even more. Why hadn't he discussed this with you before mentioning it to her?

"Oh", you respond simply. His eyebrows raise in question, staring over at you, apparently waiting for your answer. "You want an answer now?"

"No", he says, leaning back into his seat. "You can let me know after the premier if you want. But I've got a pretty packed schedule this Summer so we'd need to know as soon as possible."

"Oh...ok. Well I guess, let me think about it then", you say, still shocked that he asked you.

"No problem", he says with a confident grin. You and he both know that you always end up saying yes to him sooner or later. Why should this time be any different? But this time IS different. This isn't just working on a movie set with him. Or doing something once or twice. Going to a job every day, doing your work then coming home when you're finished. This would be traveling with him, staying in hotels with him, working on him night and day... Could you really handle that? Could he? And Ashley would more than likely be attending some of these events, wouldn't that be awkward as hell? Well if he's not worried about it, maybe you shouldn't be either.

You both remain silent for the rest of the trip to the hotel and when you finally arrive, you glance up to see that it's the same hotel you stayed in for the Met Gala. Really?? Out of all the hotels in NYC, this is the one you and Taron will be staying at? Fate really is a devious bitch.

The bellman shows the three of you to your respective rooms. Lindsay is in a room across the hall from the two adjacent rooms that you and Taron will occupy. Upon entering your room, you find that it is the exact replica of the room you stayed in before, except everything is flipped. The one thing that is different however, is that there is a door on the wall next to the bed that wasn't in the room you stayed in previously. Going over to it, you unlock the door and turn the handle to open it, only to find that there is a small space and then another door. You are about to try the handle when it suddenly opens and Taron's beaming face greets you on the other side. You blink at him a few times in confusion but he just continues to smile stupidly at you.

"Adjoining rooms?" You ask, slightly astonished.

"Yep, just easier that way", he says nonchalantly as if it's the most normal thing in the world. Maybe it is? He then breezes past you and walks right into your room uninvited. It reminds you of the night when he did the same thing in this very hotel under very different circumstances. You shudder at the thought of your own racy behavior that night.

"Ok...so what's the plan?" You ask as he plops down onto the sofa in the corner. His body language is so completely different than it was that night after the gala. He looks relaxed and at ease, and it helps put you at at ease as well. You cross to the bed and sit on the edge of it, waiting for an answer.

"Well, I have this Q&A thing to go to before the premier so I guess you can get me ready for that if that's ok?" You laugh at this.

"You're paying me so I guess it's ok", you answer rhetorically. He gives you a sideways grin that looks slightly mischievous, but doesn't comment further.

"Right. And then I'll come back here and get freshened up and we'll head to the premier!" He looks positively giddy which makes you happy as well.

"Ok, sounds good. When is the Q&A?" You ask, getting up to retrieve your bag and find a suitable place to do his make-up. He looks at his watch then stands himself.

"In an hour. I'll just grab a quick shower then we can get started."

"Perfect, that will give me time to set up. Do you want to do it in here or in your room?" You hear the words come out of your mouth and immediately feel a flush creep up your cheeks. Hopefully he's mature enough to not have a mind in the gutter unlike yourself apparently. Thankfully he just smiles before answering.

"Either way is fine", he says as he makes his way back toward the adjoining door. Just before he slips through, he places his hand on the door jamb and turns his head back in your direction. "Be back soon, don't go anywhere", he says as he flashes you a toothy grin.

"I'll be here", you answer back, then set to work getting your supplies ready.

You decide to set up in his room simply because of the proximity of his clothes and belongings. Throwing your make-up bag over your shoulder, you enter his room and notice that it's the mirror image of your own. You move the extravagant arrangement of flowers off the table to a smaller accent table near the door, then begin to set up your travel mirror and appropriate products you will need for him on the now empty table. During your set up, you are vaguely aware of the shower turning on but you don't think much of it as you are concentrating on making sure you have everything you need. After about five minutes, you jump suddenly when you hear a loud crash come from the direction of the bathroom. It sounds like something very heavy fell from somewhere high and you stop what you're doing to focus on any more sounds, waiting to see if the water turns off. It doesn't and you become increasingly concerned. Taking a few steps toward the bathroom, you yell to be heard over the water and through the closed door. "Taron?" Silence, except for the steady sound of the stream of water. You move closer and put your ear to the door, calling even louder this time. "TARON? Are you alright?" Still nothing. Now you're downright worried. What if he fell and busted his head open and you're just standing out here doing nothing? You try the knob and it turns, so you push the door open a crack and peer around it. "Taron?" You say a little quieter this time so as not to startle him if he is completely fine, which he probably is. Still no answer though. You push the door open a little wider and a billow of steam escapes, hitting you in the face and blinding you temporarily. Waving your arm around your face to clear it, the image of the glass shower stall comes into sight, and your view of Taron slowly becomes crystal clear. Your eyes go wide when you see him materialize through the steam, perfectly safe behind the glass as he runs his hair under the water, and you feel your mouth gape open as you can now see...everything. Glowing wet skin, hair soaked through, muscles flexing, water droplets cascading down... You know you need to retreat back through the door, but you can't seem to make your feet move. You continue to stare for maybe a few seconds, or hours who knows, when you hear a voice inside your head scream, "MOVE!" Luckily it gets your attention so you start to creep back through the door. As you do, the broken heel of your shoe gets caught on a loop on the plush bath rug and in pulling it free, you end up kicking the door hard with the tip of your boot, which causes it to slam shut. Not to mention the fact that you stub your toe in the process and yelp, loudly. Any chance he didn't hear that? You and your damned clumsy self. You open the door and continue to inch your way through as if nothing has happened when you hear his voice call your name through the sound of the shower. Shit. You slowly turn back around but keep your eyes trained on the ground.

"Are you ok?" He asks, always thinking of you when you're the one standing in here like a dumbass while he showers.

"Yes, sorry. I heard a noise and thought maybe you fell. I called your name but...I guess you didn't hear", you mumble as you study the tiled floor, knowing that your face must be several shades of red by now.

"Oh", he says and you hear him chuckle. "Yes the shower head thing fell. But I'm fine", he adds.

"Ok good", you mutter before quickly escaping back out into the sanctuary of the room beyond. You're not completely sure, but you think you hear the unmistakeable sound of his muffled laughter, just as you close the door and lean against it in utter humiliation.


	20. The Confession

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You get Taron ready for the Rocketman premier.

As you stand with your back pressed against the door, you begin to notice a feeling that's even worse than your impending embarrassment. That would be the pain emanating from your foot. You look down at it to see that your big toe is already turning a slight shade of blue and your toenail looks a bit gnarled. Great. You try to take a step and realize just how bad it actually is when the pain shoots like needles through your entire foot. Hobbling away from the door, you make your way over to Taron's bed and collapse down onto it. Pulling your foot up slowly to balance it on the thigh of your other leg, you release the buckle on your boot and carefully peel it off your foot. OUCH. Peering down at your toe, you barely register that the shower has turned off and the bathroom door is creaking open.

"Everything ok?" You hear Taron's voice call from the other side of the room. You are still examining your maimed toe when you glance over at him to find him standing in the middle of the room, a towel draped loosely around his hips and his body still dripping wet. Good Lord. You pull your eyes away from him immediately.

"Geez Taron. Maybe put some clothes on?" You ask, hoping that your cheeks aren't as red as they feel.

"Sorry", he says chuckling. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be in my room." You stare back over at him blankly.

"Um, you were the one that booked adjoining rooms", you retort condescendingly.

"I know, I'm just teasing", he says then glances down at your foot that you're still cradling. "What happened?"

"I stubbed my friggin toe", you answer, looking back down at it. Taron crosses the room immediately and is by your side in seconds. As he peers down at your foot, the proximity of his half naked wet body next to you is almost too much, and you lean away slightly to catch your breath.

"Oh, you really did. That looks kinda bad", he says as he leans over you to study your toe. The water from his hair drips down onto the floor as he moves to sit across from you on the bed and reaches out to take your foot in his hands. The wet warmth of his palms on your skin gives you a sudden chill and you have to stop yourself from physically shivering at his touch. You glance up at him to see tiny droplets of water still clinging to his lashes, his hair tousled and wet, his skin shimmering. And... he smells fucking amazing. You involuntarily lick your lips then catch yourself and force yourself to focus. Get a grip.

"Taron it's fine, just go get dressed", you say as you pull your foot from his grasp and start to rise from the bed. You feel the need to get away from him before you say or do anything you'll regret later. However, the sudden rush of blood to your foot causes the pain to surge even more and when you try to put weight on it, you nearly crumple to the ground. Taron is quick as he stands abruptly and catches your arms before you can fall. Your hands go instinctively to his shoulders to steady yourself and as you grasp the dampened bare skin, you suck in a breath at his intimate closeness.

"It's not fine", he says in a voice three octaves lower than before which makes your pulse do overtime. You look slowly up into his eyes which turns out to be a mistake when you see dark pools of emerald residing there. Taron stares down at you for only a moment before clearing his throat and for once, he's the one to release you, but not all the way. He backs his body away from yours, but then lowers you back down into a sitting position on the bed and carefully lifts your leg to stretch it out onto the mattress. Once he has you settled, he releases you fully and backs up about a foot from the bed. "I'm going to go get dressed and then get you some ice. Don't move", he instructs while staring down at you, his body still looming a bit too close, his heat radiating toward you in waves.

"Ok", you all but squeak, then watch him turn and grab his bag and retreat back into the bathroom. You let out your breath in a whoosh and feel a bit of the pain release with it. He returns moments later wearing baggy sweats and a hoodie. "Is that what you're going out in?" You ask as you watch him cross the room to sit and pull on some sneakers.

"No silly, just to get you some ice. I'm actually really excited about what I'm wearing tonight", he adds with a lopsided grin.

"Oh?" You respond, intrigued. "And what would that be?"

"You'll see", he answers, throwing a little wink your way to which you roll your eyes. He finishes lacing up his shoes then slips out of the door without saying anything else. Ok then. Tired of sitting, you let yourself fall onto the bed on your back and stare up at the ceiling. You really hope you haven't hurt your toe too badly. It's already starting to feel better, but you don't want to have to be limping around at the premier and there's no way you're missing it. Laying here, you wonder again about this choice of hotel and what a coincidence it is that it's the same one you stayed in only weeks ago. At that thought, Taron returns and you turn your head lazily over in his direction. He's carrying an ice bucket and then disappears into the bathroom. Returning seconds later with a towel, he dumps ice into it then makes his way over to you. As if just now noticing you lying down he chuckles and says, "Taking a nap?"

"No, just being lazy", you say as he extends his hand to help you rise. Sitting back up, you look down at your foot again to see that the bruising hasn't gotten any worse which is a relief. Taron grabs a pillow and places it under your foot, then takes your heel into his hand and places the towel of ice over your toe. You wince slightly and his eyes are instantly on yours.

"Sorry", he says.

"It's ok." He turns his attention back to your foot.

"Taron?" You ask.

"Yes?" He answers, still studying your foot.

"Why did you pick this hotel?" His head snaps up to yours quickly.

"What do you mean?" He asks hesitantly.

"I mean, out of all the hotels in this city, why this one?" He stares at you wide-eyed for a few seconds then finally shrugs his shoulders.

"I don't know. I always stay at this hotel when I'm here. It's close to everything and I like it. Don't you?" He counters.

"Yes, it's fine. Did you stay here for the Met Gala?" You ask, eyeing him cautiously.

"Yes..." You pause a moment, thinking through if you really want to continue down this path.

"How did you know which room I was in? That night..." You feel no further clarification is necessary when you see understanding pass over his face.

"Oh...umm...Richard told me", he says, then looks quickly back down at your foot.

"Taron..."

"Yeah?" He mumbles without looking up.

"I know", you state simply, figuring it's high time he came clean about his involvement with the Gala. And high time he know that you've known all this time.

"Know what love?" He asks, still not looking at you. You sigh heavily, realizing you're going to have to spell it out.

"I KNOW...about the Met Gala." Taron slowly raises his eyes to meet yours and you see a slight look of panic in the green depths.

"I don't know what you're talking about", he says softly. You cock your head at him and raise your eyebrows.

"I know that it was all you. This hotel...", you say looking around the room. "The dress. The driver. Richard told me. You did it all...for me." He just stares at you saying nothing, which pretty much confirms it. You watch his adam's apple bob as he swallows, and his eyes open and close. His shoulders, which were previously hunched up around his ears relax, and he exhales a deep breath through his nose.

"Are you mad?" His voice cracks. You search his beautifully worried face before answering.

"No. Just confused. Why'd you do it?"

"I just really wanted you to be there. When you told me you wouldn't go with me and then I found out you were going with Richard I admit, my first reaction was jealousy. But then I was just happy you were going and I wanted to be involved in any way that I could. So I asked Rich if it'd be ok of I made all the arrangements. He was fine with it and it made me happy, and I wanted you to feel special. Is that so wrong?" He asks, looking pained.

"No, not wrong. I just wish you would've told me beforehand."

"Would you have gone if I did?" He asks and you think it over for a moment.

"No, probably not", you admit and he looks slightly hurt. You take pity on him and smile softly in reassurance. "Well, I guess it's a little late but thank you, for all of it. I did feel special and I had a lovely time." He beams back at you and any lingering resentment you might have felt dissolves completely with that smile.

"You're welcome." A few moments of silence pass between you as you both reflect on that night, the good and the bad.

"Well, am I going to live doc?" You ask jovially, changing the subject and hopefully alleviating any awkwardness. He removes the towel and places his thumb and forefinger around your now frigid toe.

"I don't know. This is a pretty serious injury you've got here", he responds rhetorically and squeezes gently with his fingers. "How does this feel?"

"Like nothing. It's numb. But I think I'll be ok", you answer encouragingly. "Don't we need to get you ready?" You ask, glancing at your watch.

"Yeah probably. But...I don't think you should be standing on this just yet." He does have a point seeing as how the last time you tried to stand, you ended up in his arms. You press your fingers to your chin and look around the room trying to figure out a solution.

"I know!" He exclaims as he bounces off the bed and goes to retrieve your make-up bag and supplies on the table. You watch him as he brings the bag over and sets it next to you, then grabs a chair and pulls it up right next to the edge of the bed. He plops down onto it, spreading his legs wide and leaning in close so that there's as little space between you as possible. You giggle at him and turn your body so you can face him and still keep your leg stretched out to the side. It's a good thing you're fairly limber. You tuck your other leg into your body and then rummage around in your bag for your needed supplies.

Half an hour later you have him all ready to go except for his hair which he says he can manage. Your toe is already feeling much better and you're relieved it only seems to be a bad bruise. After Taron drags the chair back to the table, he comes to stand next to the bed again, hands poised on his hips. "Well, would you like me to carry you to your room?" He asks a bit sarcastically, looking down at you.

"Are you kicking me out?" You ask playfully.

"Not at all, just figured you might want to head back to rest or get ready or whatever. You're welcome to stay in here as long as you want", he says with a grin.

"I do actually. I need to get cleaned up and ready for the premier", you say as you make to swing your leg over the edge of the bed. Going slowly as to not cause another sudden rush of blood, you take Taron's arm that he offers and begin to rise carefully from the bed. Standing upright, you test your foot by putting a little weight on it and find that it barely hurts now. His eyes are on you, waiting to see your reaction so you smile reassuringly at him. "I think I'm ok now", you say as you release his arm and start to move away from him.

"Well at least let me help you to your room", he says as he takes you by the elbow and leads you back to the adjoining doors. Once through the doors, he finally lets go of you.

"Thank you. Have fun at your Q&A and I'll see you later?" You ask as you continue walking over to your bag where it was left by the main door.

"Thanks. Yes I'll definitely see you later. I honestly cannot wait for you to see the film", he says grinning.

"Me too", you agree and roll your bag over to the bed.

"Ok, I'm off to get changed. See you in a few", he says as he turns to leave.

"See ya", you call after him.

You thought Taron might check back in one last time before heading out but he doesn't. So, you decide to shower and get yourself ready for the premier. You're really glad your stubbed toe isn't worse than it is, especially once you're inside the slippery glass shower soaping up under the warm water. After you're all squeaky clean, you dry your hair and apply make-up, then check your phone to see what time it is and see that you have a text from Taron.

Taron: Change of plans. Q&A took longer than expected so I'll meet you at the theater. I'm sending a car for you in thirty minutes.

Oh. You have to admit you're rather disappointed that you won't be arriving at the theater together, but such is life when you're rubbing shoulders with celebrities. You text him back with a simple "Ok", then go to the closet where you hung your clothes up earlier. You smile as you pull a black dress from its hanger and carry it over to the bed, laying it out flat against the mattress. Gazing down at it, memories of the last time you wore this dress flood your mind. It seems like a million years ago and yet, you remember it as if it were yesterday. You close your eyes and your mind is invaded with images of easy laughter, soft touches and an overall sense of joy. You of course are remembering your time in Aberystwyth with Taron. The first time the two of you went away together, the first time he saw you in this dress, the first time you made love. You press your hand to your chest and focus on your breathing which has become a bit difficult.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

Forcing yourself to calm down, you drop the towel that's wrapped around your body, pull on your undergarments that you already laid out, and then slip into the slinky dress. You wonder briefly if Taron will recognize it. You honestly weren't expecting an influx of memories from the past when you chose this dress; it's really just the only thing you own that would be appropriate other than the dress you wore at the Troubadour that night. Both dresses have special memories tied to them, but at least this one didn't end in heartache. Luckily the shoes you brought have no memories associated with them, and they are open toed which is a bonus for your slightly swollen toe. You push them onto your feet and go to your suitcase for one last item. Pulling a necklace out of your jewelry pouch, you go to the mirror and fasten it around your neck. You gaze at it for a moment and then lift your eyes to your reflection in the mirror. You hope you haven't gone overboard by wearing the orange stone set in the delicate chain that Taron gave you all those months ago, but honestly it's the nicest necklace you own. You no longer have time to ponder that however, as the front desk calls to notify you that your car as arrived. Perfect timing. Taking one more quick glance at yourself in the mirror and feeling pleased enough with your appearance, you leave the room and make your way downstairs to greet your driver.

When the car pulls up to the Lincoln Center, you have that same familiar feeling of butterflies that you did when you first arrived at the Met. Why must you always be arriving to these things alone? One thing is for sure, you don't think Taron will be coming to your rescue this time. He'll be much too busy. However, as soon as you step out of the vehicle, another familiar face greets you instead. Lindsay. You've never been more happy to see this woman as she was apparently sent to collect you at just the right moment. As usual, her demeanor is all business as she mutters a quick greeting and then ushers you down the sidewalk and through the glass doors. The massive space inside is impressively modern and sleek, and you crane your neck to see all the way to the top of the enormous building. You don't have long to stop and gape though because she is moving quickly to her intended destination, so you keep up your pace to follow beside her. The sounds of hundreds of people can be heard as you get closer to wherever you're going, and the tell-tale signs of flash bulbs going off tell you that you're close. Sure enough, as you round another corner you are hit with the vision of sparkling blue and silver everywhere, and the movie's title emblazoned on every surface imaginable. There's a large mass of people to your left chattering loudly and lining up to get their photos taken in front of the signs and movie posters. And to your right, you see a wall of fans dressed in crazy outfits and glasses, waving smaller versions of the posters as they wait to greet their favorite stars when they pass by. Your eyes widen as you take it all in and then you hear Lindsay's voice pulling you from your stupor.

"Are you ok here?" She asks and you realize she's asking if it's ok for her to leave you.

"Yeah, sure", you mumble. She nods quickly and then leaves you to wander stupidly around the room by yourself. You see many familiar faces, much like the night at the Troubadour, and you feel slightly uncomfortable wondering if anyone will even recognize who you are. You are just about to slink off into a corner when you feel a hand on your bare shoulder. Turning abruptly, you look up to find Richard dressed all in black beaming at you. He looks handsome as always and suddenly you are embarrassed about the circumstances surrounding the last time you saw him, but of course he puts you at ease almost immediately by leaning in and kissing each of your cheeks lightly.

"You made it lass! I'm so glad!" He says with a broad smile.

"Me too", you answer with a smile of your own and feel yourself starting to relax already. "This is amazing", you say, gesturing around the room. Of course by now, this is probably old news to him.

"It is", he drawls, looking around himself. "Have you found Taron yet?"

"No, I just got here", you answer. It occurs to you that it might be a bit awkward for the three of you to be together again, but with so much going on, maybe it won't be. Surely they both have bigger things to be concerned about than you. Richard glances over your shoulder and a small smile plays at his lips.

"Looks like he found you", he says, nodding in the direction of where he's still looking. You twirl around to find Taron some fifteen feet away staring over in your direction. He has the same look on his face that he did during the Met Gala whenever you would catch him looking. As if realizing that he's gaping at you rather oddly, he relaxes his body language and plasters a smile on his face before sauntering over to the two of you. You smile at him as he approaches and throw a quick glance at Richard to find him doing the same.

Just before he is within hearing distance, you murmur from the side of your mouth, "By the way, I told him I know about the Met Gala."

"Ah...", is all he has time to say before Taron reaches you.

"Well hello there", Taron says greeting you, then glances at Richard. "Richard keeping you company?" There's not an ounce of disdain in his voice and you realize this is just friendly banter.

"Yep, I'm sure I was looking pretty lost", you say with a chuckle. At that moment, a man comes up behind Richard and taps him on the shoulder. The man asks if he can be stolen away for a quick interview to which he agrees. Giving both of you a little nod of his head, he steps away, leaving you alone with Taron. Suddenly, your eyes drop to his outfit and you gasp a little when you realize what he's wearing. Scanning his upper body, then lifting your eyes up to his you ask, "Is that...? The jacket you wore on the "Tiny Dancer" set?" Your eyes fall again onto the denim and patch clad jacket, and memories of a chilly late night in London scatter throughout your mind. He grins broadly, obviously immensely proud of the fact that it is said jacket, and rightfully so.

"Yes! Isn't it great? The studio let me have it. Now everyone will know who I am", he says laughing nervously. Oh how humble he is.

"Yes, it is great. I always loved that jacket. But Taron, you don't need a jacket for people to know who you are", you say as if this is the most obvious statement in the world. It should be.

"Thanks love", he says with a grin. "You look...really lovely", he says, doing a very quick but very thorough appraisal of your appearance. Has he recognized the dress?

"Thank you", you answer, looking away shyly. He then clears his throat which brings your attention back to his voice.

How's your foot?" He asks, effectively changing the subject. He's really good at that. You instinctively look down at it.

"Oh, much better, thanks. Yeah I think it looked a lot worse than it actually was."

"Well that's good. I was worried you wouldn't make it tonight."

"Never", you assure him with a smile. You'd have to be pretty much coughing up a lung to miss this, but you don't tell him that. He smiles politely at you then gestures around the space.

"Well, what do you think of all this?"

"It's definitely something. But I'm much more excited about the movie itself."

"Me too, in fact-" Taron doesn't get to finish whatever he was saying because Lindsay approaches him and pulls his attention away from you. Again. He listens intently to what she says to him, then turns back to you.

"I have to go greet some fans, but I'll see you in there, ok?" Why is he always being taken away from you?

"Oh, ok. Take your time, don't worry about me", you say feeling stupid. Why would he be worrying about you? He gives you a small, almost sad, little smile.

"Will do", he responds before turning from you and following Lindsay over to the aforementioned wall of fans. You watch from across the room as he interacts with them and once again you are in awe. It's incredible to see him like this. He's just so...invested in them. He gives each of them his direct attention as he talks with them, signs their posters they thrust at him and leans in for countless selfies. If it were you, you'd be running as far away from them as possible. Of course this is why he's the actor and you're the make-up artist. Still, the charisma and alluring magnetism he has with each and every one them amazes you, and you realize as you look at their faces that they feel the exact same way. After several minutes pass, Lindsay finally leads him away from them and you notice that everyone seems to be moving in the general direction out of this space and into another, so you follow. A few of your fellow crew mates that you recognize from the film are clumped together a few feet in front of you, so you head in their direction. As you approach, they actually do recognize you immediately, and excited greetings and side hugs ensue. You're at least thankful not to be walking into the theater alone since you have no idea where Taron, or Richard for that matter, have disappeared to. The group seems to know where they are going, so you make your way slowly into the grand theater with them, and then finally locate seats near the back. Sitting down, you scan the crowd in front of you for a familiar sign of Taron. Finally locating him standing and talking with people near the front, you smile and resign yourself to the fact that you obviously won't be sitting with him. You didn't figure you would be, but there was always that slight glimmer of hope. Admittedly you're a little disappointed that he won't be able to see your initial reaction to the movie, of course you weren't able to see his either.

You chat briefly with your seat mates, then look up again to locate Taron one last time before the lights dim. Just before they do, he finds you amongst the crowd and gives you a little wave and smile. You wave back briefly, then watch him as he places his hand against his heart and tilts his head to the side just a bit, all while gazing out at you. You're not sure what the gesture means, but it gives you a warm fuzzy, albeit, slight apprehensive feeling. He then turns around and sits and you can't focus on him anymore because the room has gone dark. Suddenly, it feels as though your heart is about to thud out of your chest and you have to practice your breathing exercises. It hasn't even started yet and already you're about to lose it. It's just a movie after all, but everything you've done and thought about over the last nine months has led up to this moment. At least now you can understand a little more where Taron was coming from with how nervous he felt at the first premier.

The room goes quiet as the screen comes to life with images of the studio's logo. You're not sure you're ready for this, but you grasp the ends of the armrests and are literally on the edge of your seat as the familiar notes of a haunting melody fill the room...


	21. Rocketman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You finally get to attend the Rocketman Premier.

The melody develops into something recognizable and the familiar notes of "Goodbye Yellow Brick Road" float through the theater as the credits of the film begin. Your eyes are glued to the screen as it goes black, then seconds later the movie's title sparkles into life. You feel the corners of your mouth stretch wide as you wait in anticipation for what happens next. The title is scattered away, and you are pleasantly surprised when the first image after that is non other than Taron himself in the orange sparkly jumpsuit he was wearing the very first time you ever laid eyes on him. He enters through a set of double doors, and then walks in slow motion determinedly to his next destination, wherever that may be. He then bursts through another set of doors as the camera zooms in close on him, and you feel exactly the way you did when you first saw him last year wearing this very outfit. Your hands go instinctively to the orange stone at your throat, and you relax and sit a little further back into your chair. A surprising feeling of calm begins to wash over you, and you wonder if maybe you will be ok after all. 

You actually rather enjoy yourself as you begin to watch young Elton's story being told through the talented young actors on screen. In fact, you are enjoying it so much that about twenty minutes in when Taron returns to the screen as a young adult Elton, you had almost forgotten he was in it. Well not really, but at least you are pleasantly surprised to see him reappearing so soon. As the carnival scene progresses, you are transported back to your early days on set where you were assigned to many of the extras you are watching on screen at this moment, before you were re-assigned to Taron only. Your remembered shocked reaction at being told you would be working with him exclusively makes you scoff at yourself a bit. To think, if that hadn't happened, none of the past year's events would've occurred. You can't decide whether that would've been a good or bad thing. Pushing those thoughts aside, you continue to watch Taron and the rest of the cast in awe at all of their performances. The introduction of Jamie as Bernie Taupin especially makes you smile; he was always so sweet to you and his and Taron's chemistry on screen is nothing short of inspiring.

You are happily enjoying the movie along with everyone else, when a particular scene comes along and punches you in the gut. The "Your Song" scene. You had almost forgotten that you'd be subjected to watching this scene in front of all these people, and having to deal with the memories that come along with it. As you watch him sing and play, you almost feel as if you're back behind that pillar watching him. The way his eyes look, the curve of his mouth as he smiles, the intense melodic sounds of his voice; it all transports you to another time and place and you feel the tears begin to well. Forcing them down, you instead choose to focus on how truly beautiful this song is, especially the way Taron delivers it. You only let yourself imagine briefly that maybe you had something to do with that in some tiny way.

Luckily, the movie picks up pace again several minutes later with the Troubadour scene, and it's so uplifting and whimsical that you temporarily forget your meaningless woes. Richard as John Reid is introduced in this scene as well, and you smile widely with pride for your friend. Shortly after that is the "Tiny Dancer" scene and you are met once again with memories of that night and the now infamous jacket. It's such an interesting perspective to have been involved with the majority of these scenes in a somewhat haphazard way, to now see them all fit together perfectly like a magnificent puzzle. You can't help but swell with pride at your small involvement with this film.

Without warning, Taron and Richard's love scene is thrust upon you and the entire audience, and to say it's mind-blowing would be an understatement. You grip the armrests a little tighter and squirm in your seat a bit. It's so strange to see two people you care so much about together like this, especially projected out for the entire world to see, even though you know it's just an act. Admittedly you feel a bit aroused and you're not sure what that's about, other than the fact that two gorgeous men are kissing and rolling around naked with each other. Relaxing your grip as the scene ends, you try and calm your slightly accelerated breathing so you can enjoy the rest of the movie. You are hoping for your sake that this will be last of that type of scene.

A little while later, you watch as Taron sings a song with an actress, and just so happens to be the same song the two of you sang just last night at your impromptu picnic. Was it really only last night? So much has happened since then, but you hum quietly along with them, remembering the silliness between you. A quick kiss with Richard in a closet follows shorty after which makes your breath catch, but then another lively song and dance number with the both of them ensues, which makes you incredibly happy. Your joy soon fades though as the scene with Elton's dad unfolds. As soon as you see Taron's outfit, you immediately remember that this was the scene that caused you so much sorrow that day on set when you watched him pour his heart out on screen, even as the real-life emotions between you were developing. When his tears fall as he sits in the car, so do yours and you wish more than anything you had thought to bring tissues. Wiping your face as inconspicuously as you can with the back of your hand, you try and focus on the happier moments of the movie so that the remembered grief of that day doesn't overwhelm you. The tears fall freely again as he rages against his pain in the therapy group session, and once more as he comes out to his mother on the phone. You don't even bother to wipe them by the time he is sitting in his dressing room after John has just struck him. At this point, you figure they will dry on their own and your make-up is probably ruined by now anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you force yourself to calm down again so that you can appreciate the rest of this painfully beautiful film. For you personally, the pinnacle of the movie is during the song "Rocketman", where Elton is nearing his all-time low and the pain and sorrow that he has to deal with is all culminated in a feeble attempt at suicide, followed by an amazing performance days later at Dodger Stadium. At this point, you're not sure where Elton ends and Taron begins and once again, it just goes to show how there's no one else that could've played this role. In this moment, in this retelling of his story, Taron is Elton and you feel like sobbing for them both.

Minutes later, you are once again thrown head first down memory lane during the "Bennie and the Jets" scene. Recollections of a heated and passionate exchange in a dark closet have you squirming again, and you feel like slapping yourself. Not to mention the fact that Taron is wearing the costume in this scene that he was wearing when you got hurt, which ultimately led to you leaving the film altogether. The range of emotions you've experienced in the last two hours can only be categorized as a free-falling roller coaster.

A few more sad musical numbers are interspersed with moments of despair in the therapy room, and you are starting to wonder if this movie will even have a happy ending. It truly breaks your heart when you watch Taron throw himself down the stairs, as he so eloquently put it that night on the phone, and you want nothing more than to crawl through the screen and comfort him. It seems to come full circle however when Taron is shown once again in the orange jumpsuit. It describes the events leading up to the arrival of him checking himself into rehab, and you are finally starting to think you might get your happy ending after all. But Dex, through way of Taron, has one more trick up his sleeve as Taron playing Elton makes amends with all of the people in his life, and thus creating the water-works to start all over again.

The final scene finally gives the audience the happy ending it so desperately needs as Elton decides to return to music, and engages in an uplifting and jovial musical number on the beach after his recovery. Even so, you are too far gone at this point to enjoy it properly. You are sniffling loudly and your seat mate discreetly hands you a tissue. You dab at your face and watch through watery eyes as the final number comes to end and the end credits begin, accompanied by a duet sung by Taron and Elton. You have no words to describe what you just witnessed. The film was an outstanding display of poetry and emotion and was visually stunning; not to mention the fact that Taron's beautiful face and voice filled every corner of the movie. You are so overwhelmed that you don't even realize that everyone has stood up and are applauding as the final credits roll. You get to your feet on wobbly legs and feel the sudden need to escape. You're not sure why, but you know you can't face Taron like this. You just know you will lose it all over again. Mumbling your apologies, you scoot your way to the end of the row and then quickly dash up the steps that will lead you out of the theater. Once out into the now empty lobby, you look around for the nearest exit and then spot it some twenty feet away through a pair of glass doors. Dashing toward them and then pushing your way through, you inhale a deep breath of the outside air, letting it fill your lungs with oxygen and then blowing it out in a long exhale. Once you've calmed your breathing, you pull out your phone to quickly call an Uber to take you back to the hotel. It arrives minutes later and you scramble inside without looking back.

Stumbling through your hotel room door, you kick of your shoes and wander aimlessly around the room. You're too wired to sit but you don't know what else to do. You mindlessly amble over to the doors separating your room from Taron's and turning the handle, slip through them quietly. Robotically, you cross the room to his bed and then sink down onto it, clasping your hands together and hanging your head. You have no idea what you're doing in here, but sitting here in the dark in his room, surrounded by his things and his scent, makes you feel better somehow. You're not exactly sure how much time has passed when you hear the lock on the door click and Taron stepping through.

"There you are!" He exclaims as he bounds into the room and locates you sitting on his bed. "Where did you run off to? I looked for you after the showing but you were gone", he says, and you see a slightly hurt expression pass over his eyes. You don't answer him, but instead press your palms into the mattress on either side of you, almost as if resisting the urge to make your next move. You're not sure what causes you to do it. Maybe it's the over-emotional reaction you had to seeing the movie. Maybe it's just because he's standing here in this hotel room looking so amazingly beautiful. Or maybe it's because you're still so unbelievably in love with him. But whatever the reason, you find yourself standing and walking briskly over to him, and without hesitation, throwing your arms around his neck and pulling him into a crushing embrace. You feel him stiffen momentarily, probably in shock, then his arms go swiftly around your waist to return the intimate gesture. His body contours in all the right places around yours, just as it always has, and you sigh into him with the release that holding him always provides. You both stand there like this, breathing in and out, just being in the moment of sharing this space together, and it feels heavenly.

"Are you ok?" He finally asks in a shaky exhale close to your ear. You reluctantly pull back to look into his eyes but you don't release him. You notice his hands stay clasped around your waist as well.

"Yes", you breathe out. "It's just that...watching that movie, and you..." You don't quite know how to find the words you're looking for as he searches your eyes with meaning, waiting for you to continue. "It was breathtaking. YOU were breathtaking", is all you manage to say although you know there's so much more to it than that.

"Thank you", he says softly as he watches you intently, his face so close to yours. Your eyes flick down to his jacket filled with its many colorful patches, and you release his neck to delicately finger each patch, one by one. You start at the collar and work your way down over his chest, trailing your fingers over the various textures and shapes. When you reach the bottom, your hands wander inside the jacket to his soft t-shirt underneath. You see the deep rise and fall of his chest as your fingers work their way back up over the fabric covering his torso and pectorals. Your fingers are slow, deliberate and exploratory; and you peek up at him to find his eyes closed, his breathing more labored. Your hands move with the increased rhythm of his breathing as you trace the hard muscles of his chest, flattening your palms against them.

"Please...", he whispers, and your eyes dart back up to his which are now gazing intensely down at you. A familiar darkened look of heat resides there and it makes your pulse jump in your veins. You're not sure if he's asking you to continue or stop but at this second, you don't care so you keep moving upward until your hands are nestled just under the jacket at his shoulders. Moving slowly and never taking your eyes off his, you slide the jacket past his shoulders and gently over his arms which he pulls from your waist to assist you. Once you have the jacket off him, you pull it around his body to smooth it, and carefully hang it over the back of a chair that's sitting at the table nearby. You then turn back to him and see him staring down at you with a look of conflicted, barely contained passion. His eyebrows are pulled together and his lips are slightly parted with little puffs of air coming out in quick gasps. You place your palms on either side of his face, and the time for slow deliberate movements are now gone as you crash your mouth to his in a moment of pure desire, all thoughts of right and wrong abandoned. He stills for a fraction of a second before hastily wrapping his hands back around your waist and returning your kiss with a resounding groan. Your movements are chaotic and sloppy as you thread your hands through his hair, pulling him closer and darting your tongue in and out of his mouth. His hands move to your hips as he simultaneously kisses you and moves you toward the table to your left. As you bump clumsily into it, the mirror you had set up earlier crashes to the floor, but it does nothing to deter him. Half sitting you down on the flat surface and half laying on top of you, his pelvis presses into yours which awards him a sharp gasp from you. Leaving your mouth, his teeth graze your jaw and ear as you pant obscenely into the air. His lips and tongue drag down the length of your neck and you think you might explode right here on this table. As good as this feels, you need his mouth on yours again so you grab his face and guide him back up to you. His lips are pink and full, and you run your thumb over them before pulling him back to your own lips. As his tongue teases and his lips caress yours, your hands leave his face to travel down his chest and abs to your final destination, his waistband. Tugging his shirt loose from his pants, you then go to work on his belt buckle, pulling and yanking with your eyes closed until it finally comes free. You manage to pop the button of his pants open and you're heading for the zipper when strong warm hands suddenly clasp around your wrists. You pull back to look into his pained expression, and immediately your heart sinks. "We...we can't do this", he gasps with labored breaths. "You know we can't..." Of course you know this, but your body and heart say otherwise. Feeling a new brand of humiliation, you pull your hands from his grasp and push your palms against his chest. You attempt to catch your breath before breaking your hold on him and peeling yourself from underneath his body. Ambling a few paces away, you turn your back, too ashamed to face him. Trying to calm your racing heart, you place your hand against your chest and mumble your next words to Taron as you hear the sound of him re-buckling his belt.

"I know we can't. I'm...I'm sorry."

"Please don't be sorry. It's not because of why you think", he says and you turn around to face him, confused.

"What do you mean?" Is it not because he obviously has a girlfriend?

"I mean, it is because of that", he says, guessing at the thoughts running through your head as you drop your gaze to the floor. "But that's not the main reason." You look back up at him, still not understanding what he's trying to say. "You know I want to be with you, but if we continue like this, you'll hate yourself-" You start to protest but he stops you by walking a few paces toward you. "And you'll hate me", he adds quietly. "You'll hate us both, and I can't have that."

"I hate us both already", you say, defeated with the weight of that statement. He steps even closer to you, close enough that when he reaches out to touch your cheek, you flinch away from him.

"Please don't say that", he whispers, caressing your skin with his thumb. You pull away from him and sink down onto the bed. He follows hesitantly and sits down next to you. After sighing heavily, you dramatically fall onto your back onto the mattress, letting your legs dangle over the edge. You bring your hands to your face trying to shut everything out. You feel the mattress shift and know that Taron has replicated your action and is now lying by your side. You uncover one eye to peer over at him and find that he is watching you closely.

"So where do we go from here?" You ask as you uncover your face and clasp your hands together at your chest. Only his head is turned toward you as he gazes into your eyes before answering.

"I still want you to come work with me this summer", he states, and you stifle a laugh of contempt.

"You know that will never work", you say simply, surprised he would ever think it could.

"I don't believe that. We're both professional adults and I think it could."

"I'm still in love with you Taron", you say bluntly, and you hear him suck in a sharp breath through his teeth. He closes his eyes briefly then opens them again to find yours.

"You know I'm still in love with you too", he repeats.

"And that's why this can't work." With that statement, you pull yourself from the bed and stand abruptly. You walk a few steps toward the adjoining doors, but before you reach them you turn around to find him now sitting up on the bed and staring across the room at you. "I really did love the film Taron. It was exquisite. You should be really proud." You sincerely hope he knows how much you mean that since you know you could never quite put how you felt about it into words.

"Thank you. I am, and you should be too", he adds stoically. You smile weakly at him then walk the rest of the way to the doors and slip quietly back into your room. You rest your back lightly against the closed door and take a few deep breathes.

Breathe in...

Breathe out...

After you've collected yourself, you walk the few feet to bathroom door, peel yourself out of your clothes and step into a scalding shower.

Later on when you're tucked safely in your bed, you begin to cry with all of the pent up emotion of the past few days. Working on Taron again, spending time with him in an almost normal manner, seeing the final product of the film you all put your heart and souls into, and ending with a mind blowing make-out session that can go nowhere ever. You start out quietly, weeping softly into your pillow. But as your agony grows, so does your crying and it eventually turns into an uncontrollable ugly sob that wracks your shoulders and body. You know Taron can probably hear you, being just on the other side of the wall, but honestly you could care less right now. Let him hear. It's not like he doesn't know the pain you're in. A few moments later, you think you hear the sound of the door between your two rooms creak slowly open. Did you not lock it earlier? You roll over to peer over at it in the darkness and you see the unmistakable shadow of a body coming through the door and closing it behind them. Taron. You roll back over, ashamed of him finding you in this state, but he says nothing. Instead, you feel a dip in the mattress behind you and his warmth immediately enveloping you as he conforms his body around yours. You lie still, the tears drying on your cheeks as you wait for his next move. His knees come up behind yours and his right arm slips under your pillow beneath your head to form a perfect "spoon" around your curled up body.

His left hand drags up and down your arm caressing you, and you feel his breath on your cheek as he whispers, "Shhhh." You are already feeling yourself relax by the time he stops rubbing your arm to drape his loosely around you, resting his hand against yours. You inhale dramatically and settle further back into him with the exhale. You close your weary eyes and just focus on the warmth of his body, the familiar smell of him and his breath lightly tickling your ear. Before long, you find yourself drifting into unconsciousness, the steady rhythm of his chest lulling you into a peaceful sleep.

You wake the next morning just as the dull grays and dark blues of day break are filtering through the large window next to the bed. You know immediately that Taron is gone by the absence of his warmth and the weight of his body. You're not sure what time he left, but it must've been either very late or very early. Rolling over to face where his body was only hours ago, you run your palm over the smooth fabric of the lightly wrinkled sheets. You can still make out the indention in the pillow where his head was resting. Rolling over onto your back, you bring your hands to your face and rub violently, wanting to wipe away the last twelve hours. Why in God's name had you kissed him? What were you thinking? You thought you were past not having any self-control around him. Apparently you were wrong. As per usual, your flight instinct kicks in and you feel the need to get home immediately. If you can't be trusted around Taron, then you need to get away from him as quickly as possible. He's probably got a million things to do now anyway. The plane ticket Lindsay had gotten for you was a round-trip ticket with the return flight scheduled for later today. However, you figure that if you go to the airport now, there'a good chance you'll be able to catch an earlier flight. Feeling firm in the decision, you practically jump out of bed to grab a quick shower and hastily pack so that you can be out of here before Taron wakes up. You feel bad abandoning him like this, but you've done your job, fulfilled your contract, and now it's time to go home.

Thirty minutes later, with wet hair, no make-up on and your belongings packed sloppily in your suitcase, you are just about to call an Uber when you spot a small pad and pen sitting on the night table. You stare at them for a second, then making up your mind, cross the room to sit gently on the bed. Grabbing the pad and pen, you start to scribble out a quick note to Taron, saying that you're needed at home for work. When you're finished, you stare down at your scrawled handwriting, then quickly rip the note from the pad and crumple it in your hand and throw it in the nearby wastebasket. He at least deserves an honest explanation as to why you're running away. Leaning back onto the headboard, you rest the pad on your leg and take a deep breath so that you can write out a few decent words to him. Several minutes later, you have five tiny sheets of paper with the words poured from your heart written across them. You read them over and over before folding them carefully in half, then get off the bed to walk quietly over to the adjoining doors. Opening your door as carefully as you can so as not to disturb him, you place the folded pieces of paper in the space between the doors. Hopefully he will find them when he comes looking for you later. You are just about to turn around and close the door behind you when another thought hits you. Reaching around to the back of your neck where the necklace he gave you is still fastened, you unhook it, then clasp it back together. Laying it carefully over the folded note, you stare down at it for a moment longer, then close the door gently. Before you can change your mind, you gather up your things and exit the room, leaving the memories there with it.

As you sit in the back seat of the vehicle that takes you away from Taron once again, you recall the words you wrote to him only a little while ago. They are still fresh and clear in your memory, after having read them so many times. In hindsight, you hope they weren't too overly dramatic, but still got the point across. Either way, there's nothing to be done about it now. You wonder if Taron could be reading them at this very minute...

Taron,

I love you. I've loved you for a long time and I'll probably love you forever. But I can't do this anymore. I can't be whatever it is you need me to be for you. And you can't be that for me either. Please don't hate me for leaving like this. I know you always say I push you away when things get tough but that isn't what this is. I need to take care of myself now and I can't do that with the distraction of constant thoughts of you. I need to focus on me and you need to focus on your career and your relationship. We had a wonderful two days together and I'll always have that as a lasting memory. I hope you will too. I'm so happy I came to New York and was able to watch the movie in the same room as you. It will always hold a special place in my heart, as will you. Please know that I don't blame you for any of this. If anything, I'm the one at fault for hanging onto something I never even had. You are a wonderful human being but I just need some distance for my own sanity. I need to figure out how to do this on my own. Please don't ever forget all the things I've told you because they're all true. Remember to take care of yourself and know that you will always be my Rocketman.

Always yours...


	22. An Unexpected Encounter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You return home to L.A.

Once you've arrived at the airport, you check in and are luckily able to get an earlier flight that leaves in an hour. After you've gotten through security, you find a quiet coffee shop to sit and sip at a tasteless latte. You just know that Taron will probably be calling at any moment, demanding to know the meaning of the note, and why you've left in such a hurry. You really have no idea what you'll say to him when he does. But a call doesn't come. It still hasn't come by the time you've finished your coffee and are heading for the gate. And it still hasn't come when you've gotten settled onto the plane and pulled your phone out one last time to turn it to airplane mode. Assuming he's probably still asleep, you rest your head against the pillow the flight attendant brings you, and are thankful that the seat next to you is empty as you'd really like to try and get some shut-eye yourself.

Several hours and many failed attempts at sleep later, there is still no phone call when you land in L.A. and turn your phone back on. Odd. Maybe he's just busy? You disembark the plane and after collecting your bag at baggage claim, you wait impatiently for the Uber to arrive and drive you home, already tired of traveling. How in the world does Taron do it?

Once you have unlocked the door to your apartment, stepped inside and dropped your bags on the floor, you are more than a little surprised and admittedly disappointed that Taron hasn't called. Does he not care that you left without saying goodbye? Did he see the note? If not, doesn't he wonder if you're ok? These are all questions that unfortunately you won't be getting the answers to since you were the one who left, and would feel pretty foolish calling him now. Oh well, it doesn't really matter anyway. You've made your proverbial bed and now you have to sleep in it. At least that's what you're going to have to convince yourself of. Finally accepting the fact that he obviously isn't going to call, you start to unpack your things. In the midst of unpacking, you discover his jacket still draped across the couch where you deposited it the other night. Grabbing it quickly, you shove it onto a hanger and into the back of your closet again. You can't afford to have any Taron reminders lying around at the moment. When you are done with unpacking in under thirty minutes, you sit on your bed and stare at the wall. Having picked a little at the in-flight meal, you're not terribly hungry and aren't really in the mood for anything anyway. Considering you've now gained four hours by traveling back home, the day is still young and you realize you have nothing to do but sit and dwell on your thoughts. Still too restless to sleep, you quickly decide that you need to get out of the confined space of these four walls. You need a distraction and you know just where to get it.

Thirty minutes later you are pulling into the television studio parking lot. You figure you might as well finish up the few remaining chores that you didn't have a chance to do before Taron arrived to collect you the other day. As you make your way across the pavement to the glass lobby doors, you barely register that there's another car in the parking lot. Must be a janitor or security guard seeing as how the studio is now closed for the summer. Slipping your key card into the slot, the door clicks and you pull it open. Finding the lobby void of anyone, you think nothing of it and continue on to your destination. It's strangely quiet in the small hallways that now somehow feel vast and wide. Your footsteps are the only thing that can be heard throughout the empty space, and you watch as the motion sensing lights click on with every few steps you take down the never-ending maze of halls. Finally reaching your small make-up room, you step inside, wait for the lights to click on, then shut the door softly behind you. You look around the room to assess what still needs to be done, then pull out your phone to play some music as you get to work.

You end up working a lot more and longer than you intended. The clearing out and throwing away of items that are no longer needed is calming, therapeutic even. You had taken over this space from the previous make-up artist and there were loads of supplies that were either expired or no longer of any use. You've managed to fill two large trash bags of debris, cleaned every hard surface with disinfectant and labeled anything that is sitting upright. Putting your hands on your hips and surveying your work, you feel pretty good about what you've accomplished if you do say so yourself. Now you are free to completely enjoy your time away without worrying about coming back to mayhem. Dusting your hands together, you are just going over to your phone to turn off the music when you hear the distinct sound of the door opening, then closing. Needless to say, your heart is in your throat and your pulse is racing when you whip around to see whoever it is that has invaded your space. Especially because you had thought the building was empty.

Ethan. You should've known. You relax, but only minimally. What was that about him and terrible timing?

"Ethan, you scared me to death", you say, as you involuntarily back yourself up against the counter.

"Sorry MUG, my bad. I heard you rummaging around in here so I thought I'd check in to see what you're up to", he says as he takes a minuscule step toward you.

"What are you doing here?" You ask, without bothering to explain what you're doing yourself.

"Same as you I suppose. Just finishing up some things." His eyes are glued onto yours as he takes another step. His movements seem odd, predatory even, and the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. What the hell?

"Oh. Yeah, I just finished so I'm about to head out", you say. You make a move to the left to step away from the counter, but he steps to the right, effectively blocking your path.

"What's the rush? Why are you always running away from me?" He asks, and the irony that Taron has accused you of something similar is not lost on you. Although these are two very different situations. And two very different men.

"Not running. Just tired. I just flew in from New York this morning", you explain. Why do you feel a different kind of flight instinct kicking in right now? Not an emotional one like you sometimes do with Taron, but physical. Like it's imperative that you leave this room. NOW. He steps closer and you realize that you've backed yourself into a corner. You press your palms against the cool surface of the counter behind you and plan the best way to get out of this situation.

"Ahh. All done with the British bloke huh?" He says in an over-exaggerated cockney accent which makes your stomach turn. He steps even closer and you smell the distinct aroma of alcohol on his breath. Normally you would inform him once again that the subject of Taron is not to be discussed, but for some reason you feel like it would be unwise to cross him at this moment.

"Not sure what you mean Ethan... Have you been drinking?" He finally reaches you and presses one hand against the counter near your hip.

"Just a couple beers, no biggy." As he leans in close to your face, you can tell that it's definitely been more than a couple.

"Ethan...", you protest, and angle your body further away from him.

"So, what's he got that I don't? Hmm?" He asks, as he brings a finger up to drag it across your cheek. You flinch and turn your head away from him.

"I think you should go", you whisper. The instinct to run is now screaming in your head. You feel the muscles of your legs twitch as they want to transport you far away from here, as fast as they will carry you. But he's much too close for you to bolt, you know he'll catch you if he wants to.

"You didn't answer my question", he says, his voice going sharp. You are still looking away when he says your name, not MUG, but your name; and he says it so forcefully that your head automatically swivels in his direction. You suddenly feel a rare moment of bravery. You don't owe this guy an explanation. You owe him nothing. How dare he come here and intimidate you like this? Staring him straight in the eyes, with a look of what you hope is determination written across your face, you speak to him in a voice as confidently as you can muster.

"Leave. Me. Alone. Ethan. You're drunk and you need to leave. NOW." He stares back down into your eyes for a moment longer, his eyebrows creasing as he thinks over your sudden outburst of courage. Then his face breaks out into laughter, and this frightens you more than anything else he's done. Holding your ground and continuing to stare up at him, you finally decide to make your move and attempt to push yourself away from the counter. Ethan stops laughing and grabs your arm to pull you back toward it. He's not exactly rough, but not really gentle either.

"Oh no you don't. I'm not finished talking to you yet." His eyes graze down your body and you know that look all too well. The time for bold words is over, now it's just time to escape.

"Ethan, please let go of me. I need to get home. We can talk when you're sober. Please just let me go", you hear yourself beg, and it reminds you of every pathetic date rape teen drama show you've ever seen.

"No, I think the time for talking is over. I think maybe you just need to be reminded of what it's like to be with an American", he says as he grabs your other arm and leans you further back onto the counter. He's not a terribly big guy, but you have a small frame and there's no way you could free yourself from his grasp if he doesn't want you to. Your mind is spinning, desperately reaching for all of the self-defense tactics you've ever read about. You could knee him in the groin, but is that really necessary? This is Ethan after all. He's annoying yes, but is he really capable of hurting you? He's going to stop...right?

"Ethan, stop!" You yell, trying to get his attention. Maybe the frantic sound of your voice will pull him from the current delusion he's in. But even as you hear the reverberation of your voice dying out against the walls, he's leaning in to kiss you. Your hands come up to push at his chest but he's too strong. His mouth touches yours and you feel the bile rise in your throat. You wrench your head away and yell even louder this time. "Ethan, please stop!" You feel the tears starting to burn at the corners of your eyes but you force them back down. You have to stay in control of your emotions, you can't let him see you break down. He pulls back a fraction of an inch and you take the opportunity to slap him across the cheek. Maybe that will snap him out of it. But instead, he grabs your wrist with one hand and pins it with your other wrist in between your bodies. As he leans into you once more, much more aggressively this time, you scream at the top of your lungs as one last ditch effort. "STOP!"

Just when you think that all hope is lost and that all you can do now is pray that a kiss is all he's after, you hear the door to the room slam hard against the wall. The sound causes both of you to jump, and Ethan releases you instantly before slowly turning around. Your breathing is labored from the exertion of trying to get away from him as you pull your previously pinned hands away, wringing your fingers around your wrists where he was holding them so tightly. Ethan is blocking your view so you can't see who so graciously interrupted him. But you know without a doubt who your rescuer is when you hear the words spoken in a sweet Welsh accent, that is anything but sweet at the moment.

"GET THE FUCK AWAY FROM HER."

Ethan takes a tiny step away from you, unwilling to back down just yet, but enough to where you can now see Taron clearly fuming in the doorway. You've seen many looks on him, many emotions cross his lovely face, but this look is new. His hands are clenched into tight fists at his sides, and his jaw looks as though it could cut glass. His brows are set in a hard line across his face and you see the steady increased rhythm of his chest, even from across the room, as if he just ran a marathon. You can practically see the anger radiating off his body in waves. This is something you've never seen before and pray you'll never see again. It's raw and animalistic, feral and wild and you might just be frightened under any other circumstances. But now, all you feel is relief. Ethan finally speaks up in a voice that sends chills down your spine.

"This doesn't concern you dude. I suggest you take a walk", he growls, as if in a challenge.

"Are you serious? You're the one that needs to walk away, mate", Taron replies coldly, staring him down. If looks could kill, Ethan would be dead on the spot. You look between the both of them, wondering who's going to make the next move. You don't know much about Ethan, but you do know that Taron is a lover not a fighter, and you're really hoping this can end peacefully. They continue to glare at each other from across the room, then finally Ethan glances back over at you with a look of complete disdain before taking a step away and continuing on toward the door. Just as he reaches Taron, he walks a little too close to him on purpose, bumping into his shoulder with his own as he does so.

"I'm not your mate", he says as he brushes past him with such venom in his voice it makes you cringe. Looking back at you once last time, he practically spits, "This isn't over MUG." Then he huffs loudly and finally exits the room. Once he's cleared the door, Taron steps out into the hallway to watch him leave and you let out the breath you were holding on a shaky exhale. Still propped up against the counter, you're thankful to have something to support your body which now feels like jelly. Taron steps back inside moments later, then crosses the room to you instantly.

"Are you ok?" He says, grabbing your trembling hands and searching your face.

"Yes, I'm fine", you say, a shudder going through your entire body. He leads you across the room to the couch and sits you down carefully. Of all the times he's treated you with kid gloves, this time would probably be the most appropriate. His eyes wander over your face and body, presumably searching for areas of concern.

"Did he hurt you? Did he...touch you?" He says, and the words sound like they're painful for him.

"No, all he did was kiss me", you confirm. Remembering the sickening kiss, you bring your hand up to your mouth and wipe against it with the back of your hand.

"I think we should call the police", Taron announces as he stands abruptly. You grab his hand to pull him back down.

"Don't be ridiculous Taron. I'm fine, nothing happened. I could have handled him..." You're not sure this is the truth, but you don't want to worry him further.

"Oh really?" He asks sarcastically. "That's not what it looked like when I got here. What would you have done if I hadn't shown up?" As he asks this, you suddenly realize that Taron shouldn't be here. He should be in New York getting ready to jet off to wherever his next destination is. Instead of addressing his accusation, you ask him a question of your own.

"What are you even doing here Taron?" He eyes you warily, either still gauging to make sure you're alright, or deciding how he should answer your question.

"I went to your apartment and when you weren't there, I decided to check the only other place I knew of that you might be. I saw your car in the parking lot so I knew you were here", he says, as if this explains everything. You search his eyes, confused to say the least.

"How did you get in?" You're sure you closed the main door behind you, didn't you?

"The door was unlocked. I wandered around the hallways looking for you until I heard you scream", he explains, visibly shivering at that last word.

"But why are you HERE?" He finally releases your hands that he was still holding onto tightly, and his brows pull together in frustration.

"Are you sure you're ok?" He asks, the worry still filling his voice and you notice that he didn't answer your question.

"Yes I'm fine. Just a little shaken up", you try and reassure him as best you can. Yes, it was scary, but you know how he can be and you don't want him worrying about you longer than necessary.

"You're going to report this right? To the studio? And preferably to the police? They need to know what that creep is capable of. He can't be allowed to work here anymore", he says in a firm tone.

"Yes, I will to the studio. For sure." You had already decided to do that the moment Ethan went too far. Taron sighs with what you assume is relief, and thankfully doesn't press the police issue again.

"Alright good. Do you absolutely promise you're ok? You're not just doing that thing where you act like you're fine but really you're not?" Why does he know you so well?

"Yes, I promise."

"Well if you're sure you're ok...can I ask you a question?" You look at him with a baffled expression.

"Sure?" You say slowly. He appraises your face and body with apprehension one last time. Once he seems convinced that you're going to live, he continues. 

"What the fuck...", he asks as he pulls several small folded pieces of wrinkled paper from his pocket, "is this about?" Shit. You eye your note clutched in his hand and have no idea what to say, feeling shocked that he would even bring this up now. Did he actually come all this way because of your note? When you say nothing, he continues. "I thought we were past this shit. I thought we were past you pushing me away." His words cut deep and his eyes look pained, and you realize that leaving that note was probably a huge mistake. This isn't just any man after all. This is Taron Egerton and he doesn't react like a typical man would. You try to stutter out a response.

"I...I don't know. I explained in the note that wasn't what I was doing." His eyebrows raise, waiting for you to continue. "I'm not pushing you away. I just need...some distance." Your words sound weak and feeble, totally different from the way you felt when you wrote the note. But the idea is still the same, you still need some time away from him and you didn't expect him to come chasing after you when you wrote it. Gaining your courage, you continue. "I just need time Taron. Time to figure things out." He stands abruptly again and stares down at you.

"Time to figure out what?" He asks blatantly and you feel a bit stunned. Standing to face him, you try your best to explain calmly.

"To figure out how to be around you", you answer softly, feeling ashamed at admitting this.

"What does that mean?" Taron asks impatiently and you grow tired of always having to explain this to him.

"Don't you understand Taron? I can't be around you anymore!" He just stares at you like you've lost your mind. Maybe you have. "I can't be around you and not want to hold you, to touch you, to kiss you...I'm just not strong enough!" You feel the tears start to well, and once again you force them down. His face finally relaxes after your outburst and he takes a small step toward you, but you slink backwards. You hate the look you see in his eyes now. It's a look of pity, mixed with his own feelings of conflict and guilt. You look down at the ground so you don't have to see it anymore.

He takes another small step and practically whispers, "Then do it." Your head snaps back up to him.

"What?" You whisper back.

"Hold me...touch me...kiss me..." His eyes plead with you and the desire to do just that is staggering.

"Last night you said we can't", you state simply and he hangs his head in shame. "And you were right, we can't. Not while you're with her", you add softly. He has nothing to say to this, so he sinks back down onto the sofa and you follow, collapsing into the plush material next to him. "You still haven't told me what you're doing here", you say after a few moments of awkward silence. His eyes raise to meet yours and they look tired and defeated.

"I had an event earlier in San Francisco. A post-screening Q&A. I left this morning shortly after you did", he explains. Oh. So he didn't come all this way just for you. "When I found your note, I decided I would fly down here as soon as it was over. Lindsay was ready to kill me", he adds with a humorless chuckle.

"I see", you reply, nodding slowly. "So...what now?" You ask hesitantly.

"Well, I have some free time now. I was just going to head home but I thought maybe...we could spend a few days together?" Your heart constricts tightly at his words. You would love nothing more than to spend more time with him, but you know it's not possible.

"Taron...", you begin, sighing heavily. "Nothing has changed. I meant what I said before. I just need some time alone." He swallows and closes his eyes for a moment before responding, and you hate that you're hurting him again.

"I understand and I respect your decision, but...I don't want to leave you alone just yet", he says, his eyebrows pulling together.

"What do you mean? Why?"

"I know you're not fine, after what just happened with that..." His face scrunches up as he decides on an appropriate term for Ethan. "Bastard", he finishes with clenched teeth. Admittedly, you are still feeling a bit unsettled, but you were hoping Taron wouldn't notice. "I think I should at least stay the night with you."

"That's not necessary. He doesn't know where I live", you protest.

"You think he can't figure that out?" He asks sarcastically and you just shrug. "You could come stay the night in my hotel..."

"Absolutely not", you retort vehemently.

"Godammit. Will you just let me take care of you? Just this once?" You stare each other down for a few moments, and you know you will not win this particular argument. And maybe you don't need to. You finally exhale deeply in resignation.

"Fine. You can sleep on my couch", you tell him as a compromise.

"Ok, that'll work. Let's go", he announces, and then stands and waits for you to do the same. You rise to meet him, then gather your belongings to leave the room.

Once outside into the fresh air of the parking lot, you see that night has fallen and realize just how long you were inside working. Yours is the lone car in the lot now and you sweep your eyes around the vast space for any signs of Ethan. Taron must notice your unease because he stops just short of your car and turns to you.

"You ok?" He asks.

"Mmm hmm", you confirm, nodding your head slowly up and down, not meeting his eyes.

"Hey", he says, placing his hand gently on your arm. "I've got you love, ok?" You gaze up into those lovely green eyes filled for concern for you, and you're not sure why his words at this moment cause you to finally break down, but the tears cannot be contained as they well in the corners of your eyes and fall freely down your cheeks. You finally let yourself imagine just what could have happened if Taron hadn't arrived when he did, and that thought terrifies you. You cover your face with your hands, embarrassed even now to be losing control in front of this man whom you've worked so hard to protect your feelings from. You feel his arms go around your shoulders gently as he crushes you to him, your hands now encased between your face and his chest. You don't even bother to resist as you uncover your eyes and bury your face into the warmth of his body, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck. His hands rub slow circles across your back as he lets you give into this release, and the silence of the night is deafening as Taron holds you once again, here in this empty parking lot.


	23. The Sleepover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron spends the night at your apartment.

Since Taron had taken an Uber from the airport, wanting to get to you as quickly as possible, he insists on driving you to your apartment in your car. Still feeling a bit unsettled after the encounter, you had decided to let him. He also insisted on grabbing a bite to eat for you since when asked what there was to eat at your place and when was the last time you'd eaten, you had informed him, "nothing and not since the plane." He shook his head and "tsked" at you, but said nothing more and proceeded to drive to a sandwich shop nearby.

Now, with your half-eaten sandwich and bottle of water tucked carefully in your hands, he leads you gingerly up the stairs to your apartment. His hand presses against your lower back as if you can't walk on your own, but you guess you don't really mind at the moment. You're grateful to have him here, even if you don't want to admit that to Taron. Once inside your apartment, you place the bag of food in the refrigerator, then walk back out into the living area to face him. Glancing at the clock on your bedside table across the room, you see that it's a little after 9:00. Wow, you really were working for a long time. It's amazing what you can accomplish when you'll do just about anything to distract yourself from your thoughts. You stare over at him, wondering exactly how this is going to work.

"So...what now?" You ask. Your sofa isn't exactly full-sized and you're not sure how comfortable he'll be sleeping there. Plus, you'd really like to have a shower, and this whole situation is just weird. You're glad to have his company, but this apartment isn't really meant for two people.

"Whatever you need", he responds and you crack a smile. What you need and what you want are unfortunately two completely different things, but you appreciate his compassion.

"Well, I need a shower. Need to wash off the..." You don't finish as a shiver runs through your body. His face falls into a frown and you see the lingering anger there.

"Of course. Do you want me to go...", he trails off as he looks around the tiny space and realizes there's no place to go.

"No, you're fine. You're welcome to watch tv", you say, glancing toward the television that sits opposite your bed. "Or...whatever."

He thinks for a moment as he looks at the ground, then as if a light bulb goes off says, "I know. I'll go to the supermarket and get you a few things", he says, already making his way toward the door. You take a step toward him, ready to stop him.

"Oh no, you don't have to do that Taron. I'll go tomorrow. Really it's fine", you protest but realize it's probably in vain. Once Taron makes up his mind...

"Nope, already done. Mind if I take your car?" He asks, picking up the keys where he dropped them on the table next to the door moments ago. You sigh and know you don't have the energy or desire to argue with him, and he is already turning the door knob ready to exit.

"Sure...thank you." He turns his head back around to find your eyes and gives you a little nod and a wink. After that, he disappears through the door and you lock it behind him, then make your way to your awaiting shower.

Half an hour later, you are clean, dressed in comfy pj's and towel drying your hair as you step out of the steamed filled bathroom. You are a bit startled to find Taron back so soon, and unpacking several things from numerous grocery bags onto your kitchen counter.

"You're back already?" You ask, looking over at the door and then back to Taron who suddenly has a sheepish look on his face.

"Yeah...umm. I have a confession. I kinda still have your key", he explains, and it dawns on you that he never gave it back from all those months ago. Of course he could have just used the key that's with your car keys, but he's already made the admission at this point. You remember the day you gave it to him when he left your apartment after you had reconnected and made love. The memory has you feeling a bit dizzy and you feel yourself sway slightly. Taron is by your side in seconds, holding onto your arm to steady you.

"Are you ok?" He asks, his eyes sweeping over you dramatically and you feel foolish.

"Yes. I'm fine. It's just the heat from the shower and I didn't eat much", you lie.

"See, I told you", he says, taking your arm to lead you to the table and sit. You watch him as he goes to the fridge to retrieve your discarded sandwich and water, then places them down in front of you. "Eat", he instructs, then goes back to his unpacking. You sigh, and continue to pick at the food. You're really not that hungry but you don't want him to worry. Something about sitting here, having Taron take care of you, putting away groceries that he bought for you; feels a little too weird. Too domestic. It leads you down a path of thoughts that is too painful to imagine, too difficult to bear. You need to stop this line of thinking, now. You continue to watch him put away the various things in all the wrong places, and one of the last items he takes out is a bright blue bag that makes your eyes go wide and your mouth water. You gasp audibly and he turns to face you, the bag still clutched in his hands. "What?"

"Oreos?! You got...Oreos?" You ask, your excitement at the sugary treat overwhelmingly simple.

"Uh yeah...obviously, they're like a staple", he says, as if this is the most serious statement ever uttered. Your mind flashes back to a conversation about him stealing Oreos from Elton's kitchen and you catch yourself giggling. You push your sandwich and water away and lightly slap the table in front of you.

"Well come on then", you tell him. He smiles widely at you before walking over and pulling out a chair for himself, and places the bag between you. Ripping off the seal, arguably one of the most satisfying sounds ever, he picks the first one up and offers it to you. You take it then look pointedly back at him. "Milk?" You ask.

"Right!" He exclaims as he jumps back up and retrieves the fresh carton he just purchased from the fridge. Looking around with a perplexed expression he asks, "Glasses?" You point to a cabinet next to the fridge, then he pulls two glasses from it and brings them over to the table. Resting your chin in your hand, you watch as Taron pours two tall glasses of milk for you both and you suddenly realize you could get used to this. Releasing your chin and shaking that thought from your head, you pull your glass toward you. He sits back down and retrieves another Oreo from the sleeve for himself. "Ok, serious question time", he begins and your heart stills. You say nothing but just look over at him, cookie poised delicately in your hand. "Do you twist, or do you eat the cookie whole?" You blink at him a few times, feeling stupid that you thought he was actually asking you a serious question, but you recover quickly.

"Umm, twist, duh. Is there any other way?" You ask sarcastically as you twist apart the cookie, trying your best to contain all the creme filling onto one side.

"Not for me", he answers brightly as he does the same. You smile at him, then dunk one side of your cookie into the milk. Feeling like you've stepped into one of those corny commercials, you pull your leg up to rest your foot into the chair while the two of you consume the classic sweets. "So you really like Oreos huh?" He asks several minutes later when he sees that you've devoured an embarrassing amount of cookies. Looking at the now half-empty bag, you gulp down your last bit of milk and wipe your mouth with a napkin before answering.

"Well, they're no flamingo cookie, but yeah, they're pretty tasty." Taron nearly chokes on the sip he's just taken, and you realize you'd do just about anything to see him spew milk from his nose.

"Oh my God, that place was so over the top!" He exclaims, referring to the glamorous night at the Met.

"Right?!?" You answer, and smile lazily over at him. He just smiles back, then closes the bag of cookies and stands to place them on the counter. After he clears the glasses from the table and rinses them out, he walks back over to stand before you. You gaze up at him and wonder what, if anything, he has planned next.

"Bed?" He asks, and you gulp down the lump that's suddenly lodged in your throat. Knowing that he's asking a completely innocent question and actually feeling quite tired, you nod your head and rise to meet him.

"I have some extra blankets and pillows in the closet", you inform him as you start off in that direction.

"It's ok, I'll get them", he says as he passes by you before you can get very far. He rummages around the closet for a few seconds, then reappears with a blanket and pillow stacked in his arms. Taron then walks to the couch and spreads the blanket across it as you watch. He tosses the pillow at one end then turns to you. "You good?" He asks.

"Yeah", you confirm, nodding your head, then make your way over to your own bed. It feels a little odd, to be climbing into your bed with Taron a mere few feet away, but you're happy you agreed to let him stay. Once settled under the covers, you peer over at him to find him trying to make himself comfortable on your couch. You feel bad for him, as he attempts to maneuver into a decent position on the small piece of furniture, but he was the one that wanted to "take care of you". When you finally hear the rustling of the fabric cease, you reach over and turn off the bedside light, plunging the room into darkness. You wait a few more seconds, then finally speak in a hushed tone. "Good night Taron. Thanks for staying with me tonight." There's a pause but only briefly, then you hear his soft voice come out of the shadows.

"Goodnight love. You're welcome."

You lay there in silence for maybe five or ten minutes, listening to Taron shuffle around and knowing he's not asleep either. Annoyingly, you are now wide awake and there's a question that's been pulling at your brain that you know you won't have the guts to ask him to his face.

"Taron?" You ask, breaking the maddening silence.

"Yes?" His voice drifts over to you like a wave.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You can ask me anything love", he responds sweetly. You gather your courage and take a deep breath before asking your question.

"Would you still have come to L.A. today, even if you hadn't had that event in San Francisco?" There's a pause and you're suddenly terrified of the answer. What if it's no?

"Yes", he finally murmurs.

"Why?" He sighs heavily, blowing the air from his lips loudly.

"Do I really have to answer that?" He has a point. Hasn't he explained himself to you enough? Why do you always feel the need to have him spell it out for you?

"No, I guess not."

Silence, then, "Can I ask you a question?" More shuffling and you figure he's turning in your direction to be more clearly understood.

"Of course", you reply.

"What would you really have done if I hadn't shown up at the studio when I did?" The memory of Ethan touching you gives you a chill down your spine.

"Well, I was thinking about kneeing him in the groin. But I guess I was really just thinking he'd stop eventually." This is probably a naive notion, but you can't really allow yourself to think about the alternative. He sighs again and you can hear the annoyance there, even in just his breath.

"You really need to be more careful from now on. I'm not going to lecture you, but please promise me you'll think more about your safety in the future?" He sounds like he's honestly concerned for your well-being so you try not to be annoyed.

"Ok, I promise." There's another long moment of silence and you wonder if the conversation is over, but then his voice floats across the room again.

"I swear to God, I don't think I've ever been as angry as I was in that moment. I actually saw red." You can hear the anger in his voice, and you can imagine that his eyebrows are pulled tightly together and his jaw is set in a hard line.

"I know. But it's ok now. I'm going to report it and it will all be fine." You say this to reassure him but you're not one hundred percent convinced yourself. "Can we not talk about it anymore?"

"Ok." You're not sure if it's what you went through today, or the cloak of darkness or what; but suddenly you are feeling very brave and you may not have another chance like this to ask him your next question.

"Taron?" You say timidly.

"Yesss?" He says, drawing out the word.

"Why are you still with Ashley?" You regret the words the moment they leave your mouth, but there's no turning back now. The silence in the room stretches on for what seems like hours, and your heart beats a little faster with every second that ticks by. You contemplate taking back the question, but you really do want to know the answer.

"Wow", he finally says in an exaggerated exhale. "I wasn't expecting that." You weren't either honestly, but you say nothing and wait for him to continue. "I know this is a cliche answer, but it's complicated. It's hard to explain."

"Try..." You prompt. You hear more shuffling as he readjusts his position again.

"Well, we've known each other for years. It just feels...natural with her. There are no surprises. Being with her isn't a risk", he explains meekly.

"Not like it is with me you mean?"

"Not exactly, you and I are just...different." You're not sure what that means or if you even want to know.

"That's what I've always said all along, that our lives are too different for us to be together", you counter.

"That's not what I meant. Our relationship is different, different than anything I've ever known. I never know if I'm coming or going with you", he says with a chuckle. You however don't find it remotely funny.

"And with Ashley you know exactly where you're going?"

"No, that's not what I meant either. I told you, it's hard to explain. With Ashley, it's just...comfortable." Ouch. Admittedly you are jealous of Ashley, but you would not want to be in a relationship with someone that is merely comfortable, especially not with Taron. And you feel bad for him if that really is the case, he deserves so much more than comfortable. "But with you...", he continues, "with you, it's like nothing I've ever experienced before. I'm ready to give it all up for you one minute, and then ready to take you over my knee the next." Your pulse rate triples at the mention of him "taking you over his knee". You know its just a euphemism but DAMN. You swallow hard and are thankful he can't see your face which is probably several shades of red at the moment.

"I see", you squeak. "Are you...happy with her?" You know you are really pushing it now and you're not sure where this sudden outpouring of boldness is coming from.

"I guess I'm happy with the idea of being in a relationship with someone who understands what I'm going through. Someone who's like-minded. Who understands what it's like to be in the public eye, so to speak."

"Oh." You thought you had a pretty good understanding of what he was going through, but you also know this isn't really about you. It's about his relationship and that fact that he's choosing to be with her, and you should respect that. But you continue anyway. "When you told me before that you were going to break up with her, and I told you not to... Well, what if I told you now that I wanted you to break up with her, would you?" You're really not trying to manipulate him, you are honestly curious what he will say.

"Do you want me to break up with her?" He whispers, and you strain to hear him.

"No...maybe...I don't know. I'm not thinking straight. I shouldn't have said that. You don't have to answer."

"Tell you what, I'll answer later", he says softly. Before you can wonder when "later" is, you hear him tossing and turning on the small couch yet again.

"Taron", you say abruptly and the movement stops.

"Yeah?"

"Come here." Silence, and then the distinct sound of him pulling himself from the tiny sofa. He pads quietly over to the bed and you can now see him take shape beside you as your eyes have adjusted. You move yourself over and draw back the covers, just so there is no mistaking what you are offering. You can't really see his eyes, but you can tell that he's conflicted. Finally, he slowly crawls into the bed next to you, pulling up the sheets to his chest as he settles down under them. He rolls to his side to face you, then you roll over and scoot your back up against him so that you can fold yourself up into his body. He drapes an arm loosely over yours and for the second night in a row, you fall asleep curled tightly into Taron's warm embrace.

You don't know how much time has passed when you open your eyes to find that you are now facing Taron. It's still dark, seemingly much darker than it was when you fell asleep and there's a strange odor lingering in the air. You reach out to touch his face and find that his skin is damp, so you brush the hair at his temple back away from his forehead. Thinking nothing of it, you lean in close and brush your lips against his and find that they taste a bit salty. Odd. His eyes flutter open only briefly, before closing them again and returning your kiss with eagerness. You feel like you always do when you kiss Taron, like it's the first time, and a wave of electric current passes throughout your entire body. Suddenly, you feel something wet at your feet so you open your eyes and look down to see what could be causing it. When you do, you see that you are no longer in your bed, but you appear to be standing in a body of water. There are waves lapping angrily at your feet and a sudden burst of wind is trying to knock you unsteady. Grabbing onto Taron for support, you look past him to find that you are several feet from the shore, standing in the ocean, the water now swirling over your ankles and knees. Another gust of wind knocks you from Taron's grasp and you fall backward into the rising water. Unable to get a grip on anything but air, you are now almost fully engulfed in the raging sea. Reaching your hands up to him for help, you see that he is no longer in front of you, but rather standing at the shoreline, looking out at you blankly. You now realize that there's a reason you can't rise to the surface, something is holding you down under the waves and it's pulling you under, further and further. Looking behind you, you are startled and horrified to find that Ethan is there, holding onto your wrists in a death grip. You look back out at the beach one last time to beg Taron for help, but all you can see as your head finally goes under are his sunken out hollow eyes, staring back at you.

Gasping loudly, you sit straight up in bed, clutching at your wrists.

"You ok?"Taron's voice comes mumbling out of the darkness. You follow the sound of his voice to where he is still laying beside you where he fell asleep. It was just a dream. Or nightmare rather. Your heart is hammering in your chest but you try and calm your voice before answering.

"Yes...just a nightmare. Go back to sleep", you whisper, not wanting to worry him. He doesn't say anything, but reaches out and grasps your arm, pulling you back down next to him. You lie down and face him this time, pulling your body into a fetal position as he cradles you gently. You know you won't be getting much sleep for the rest of the night, and the thought that keeps you awake the most is... how are you ever going to survive without this man?

You do eventually fall asleep, and when you wake to find the room bathed in morning sunshine and the aroma of fresh coffee brewing, you stretch yourself out to find that Taron is no longer laying beside you. As you swing your legs over the side of the bed, Taron pops his head around the corner from the kitchen when he hears you stirring.

"Morning sunshine. Coffee?" He asks with a smile.

"Yes, definitely. Let me just go wash my face and brush my teeth so I feel somewhat human", you reply sleepily. Even through your haze you can see that he's got a good amount of stubble smattering his jawline and his hair is tousled in a sexy way. How can he look so good this early in the morning and on so little sleep? It's annoying really. He simply smiles at you, then pops back around to finish whatever it is he's doing.

Once you've finished in the bathroom, you pad out to to the kitchen to find him pouring two cups of coffee into mugs.

"There's creamer in the fridge", you say, pointing lazily to it. He retrieves the creamer, then sets everything down on the table and the two of you sit. "Thank you", you add.

"Anytime", he says, taking a sip of his black coffee. After a few moments of peaceful quiet, he clears his throat. "I hate to do this, but I have to leave soon." Your eyes snap up to him quickly. You hadn't expected him to leave so quickly, but of course he wasn't even supposed to be here in the first place.

"Oh?" Is all you can think to say.

"Yeah, my flight is in a few hours and I still have to drive back to San Francisco", he explains and you nod slowly.

"Ok", you say, taking a sip of your own steaming liquid. You both sit in silence after that and take your time finishing your coffee, wanting to make this moment last as long as possible you suppose. After he's done, he rises from the table and you do the same. You follow him to the living area as he pulls out his phone to call an Uber. Once he's done that, he turns to you and the look in his eyes breaks your heart. You've seen this look on him too many times.

"I don't want this to be a long depressing drawn out goodbye. So first of all, I wanted to say to you, please remember what I told you last night about being more careful?" You nod your head in agreement. "And promise me as soon as I leave here you'll report him?" Another nod and he sighs with relief. "Ok good. I know you need your distance and I'm going to give that to you. You need time to figure things out and I will respect that." Why doesn't that make you feel better? "But, I want you to feel like you can contact me anytime you need to, about anything, especially if you feel unsafe at anytime. You don't even have to talk to me, you could just use a code word."

"A code word?" You repeat, chuckling at the idea, but he doesn't appear to be joking.

"Yes, a code word", he confirms.

"Like what?" You ask, still bemused at the idea. He looks around the tiny space and his eyes land on the kitchen counter as the corner of his mouth turns up.

"Oreos", he says with a sly grin.

"Oreos?"

"Yep, Oreos. Promise you'll do it? If you ever need me?"

"Ok Taron. I promise", you agree half-heartedly.

"Ok good, but in all seriousness", he continues. "I need you to know that I'll be coming back here eventually and when I do, things will be different." You are a bit confused by what this means exactly, but you don't question him because you don't want a long dramatic goodbye either. You've had enough of those.

"Ok, thank you again for coming to my rescue", you add with a little smile.

"Always", he responds, before leaning in and touching the tip of your nose lightly with his fingertip. He then turns toward the door and you follow behind him to see him out. Right before he reaches it however, he turns abruptly and you almost run into him. "Oh, I almost forgot. I found this", he says as he pulls something out of his pocket and holds his balled up fist to you. He takes your hand and places the object into your palm, then closes your fist around it. "You must've dropped it in the hotel room", he says, arching an eyebrow. You open your hand to find your necklace wound up in your palm, the little orange stone shining at you. Your eyes flick up to his questionably, but he just gives you a tight smile.

"Thank you", you croak, as you wrap your hand back around the delicate chain. He nods his head then turns back toward the door. Opening it, he steps through and you follow, stopping at the threshold. He turns around one last time to face you, and you know he needs to leave soon or you won't be able to let him go.

"One more thing...", he says quietly, and you raise your eyebrows at him in question. He pauses a beat and the anticipation of whatever he's going to say hangs heavy in the air.

"What is it?" You ask imploringly.

"You know the question you asked me last night?" You simply nod your head, eyes wide, waiting. Taron takes a deep breath then replies, "YES."


	24. Interesting Turn of Events

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron has returned and interesting things ensue...

June...

The month crept by at an agonizingly slow pace. The endless days dragged on only to be made a little more exciting by your early morning runs that you did decide to start taking. It's nice to have the roads practically to yourself and to be done and showered before most of the city is even awake, however, it makes the days feel even longer and you find yourself thinking of Taron more and more. True to his word he hasn't called or texted, presumably giving you time to "figure things out" as it were. Unfortunately, you are no closer to figuring anything out than you were a month ago when he walked out of your apartment, and his parting "YES" hangs heavy in your mind daily. Admittedly, you are starting to wonder if and when you will ever hear from Taron again. It hasn't really been all that long, but at the same time, it feels like an eternity.

As promised, you had called the studio as soon as Taron left to inform them of Ethan's actions, and you'd been assured that the situation would be dealt with immediately. You had heard through the studio's weekly communication email a few days later that Ethan had left the show to "pursue other opportunities in Seattle", and you had left it at that. You haven't seen or heard from him since which is a huge relief, and you figure it's probably the last you will hear from him. Richard has checked in nearly every day and you're not sure if that's on Taron's insistence or not, but it's been nice to have someone to talk to.

The highlight of your month was your long weekend trip to San Francisco with your mom for your birthday. It had been nice to get away and have a change of scenery where there weren't so many memories lurking around every corner. After spending four fabulous days in the steep streets of San Fran doing everything from visiting the piers, to shopping, to dining to riding on cable cars; you had returned feeling refreshed and invigorated.

When you had returned and walked up to your apartment door, suitcases in hand, you were surprised to find an extravagant bouquet of flowers waiting for you on your doorstep. After carting them inside and carefully setting them on your kitchen table, you dug amongst the fragrant blooms until you found the card to find out who had sent them. The card had simply read, "Happy Birthday, Love Your R.M.", along with a little drawing of a rocket. Folding the card back up, you had smiled and tucked it back inside, knowing exactly who they were from.

Now, three and half weeks later, it's the middle of July and the silence around you has been maddening. The city is all but deserted with most of its residents off for their summer hiatuses to their luxurious beach homes and fabulous vacations. You've been so bored that you're actually looking forward to going back to work and have been checking your email daily to see if a return date has been announced yet. It almost makes you wish you had just accepted Taron's offer to work with him this summer. Bad idea or not, at least you'd have something to do. You've even considered calling Lisa at one point, just to have someone else to talk to other than Richard. Not that you would begrudge your relationship with him at all. You generally enjoy your chats and occasional lunches or coffees with him when he's not busy with other things. But you have to admit, you miss having a girlfriend to talk to and you promise yourself to get up the courage to give her a call soon.

On one particular uneventful evening as you are just getting back from dinner with your parents, Richard calls while you're getting out of your car. Gathering your purse and shutting and locking the car door, you slide the bar over to accept the call then begin the ascent up the stairs to your apartment.

"Hey Rich, what's up?" You ask, slightly out of breath. How you can run three miles daily without issue, but climbing the stairs to your apartment causes you to be out of breath is beyond comprehension.

"Hey kid, you ok?" He asks, apparently noticing your slightly labored breathing.

"Yep, just got home", you confirm.

"Ah well. I won't keep you, but I was wondering if you'd talked to Taron lately." This stops you dead in your tracks, mid stair. Even though you've heard from Richard almost daily for the past six weeks, he's never once mentioned Taron. You had found that slightly odd, but figured Taron had filled him in on what was going on and that maybe he thought it would be difficult for you to talk about him. You hadn't given it much thought beyond that.

"No...is he ok?" Your first thought of course is concern for him. A pause on the other end causes a chill to go down your spine. "Richard?"

"Oh. Yeah he's fine. I just thought, well. I was just checking." Richard is a horrible liar, always has been.

"Rich, what's this about?" You ask as you resume your climbing.

"Probably nothing. I've got to run. I'll give you a ring tomorrow." The line goes dead and you pull the phone away from your ear to stare at it, as if it will explain Richard's weird behavior. Shrugging it off, but with an annoying sense of dread hanging over you, you arrive at your doorstep and unlock the door. Stepping inside, you can see clear through to your bedroom and you're unable to stop the loud gasp that escapes you when you see a dark figure looming there. Cast in the shadow of the lone bedside lamp is the unmistakeable shape of someone sitting on your bed. As your heart hammers in your chest, your first thought is Ethan, but that thought departs just as quickly when you remember that he doesn't know where you live. Your purse drops to the floor just as the startled sound leaves your mouth, and the figure slowly raises its head. You recognize him instantly.

"TARON?" His name ghosts out on your lips. He's wearing a ballcap that's pulled down low over his face, his hands are clasped together in front of him and he's perched on the edge of your bed facing you. He says nothing, so you walk slowly over to him, stopping right in front of his parted legs. "Taron?" You repeat more softly now, asking with that one word what he's doing here. He looks at you for a moment then drops his head again. Your eyes search over him, looking for some sign as to what's going on but finding nothing, you remove the ballcap slowly and toss it onto the floor. He still doesn't look up, so you grasp his face gently and guide his head up so that you can see him clearly. His sad eyes barely focus on yours, but he holds your gaze as you observe him closely. His face has what looks like a day's worth of stubble and slightly blotchy red skin. His hollow sunken in eyes are red-rimmed and bloodshot. What in the world? "Taron, what's wrong?" Your instincts to protect him are kicking in and you could almost care less how or why he got in here, although you assume he's used the key he still has, but at this moment all you want is to take care of him. Frustratingly, he still says nothing though. His eyes drop to your torso which just happens to be straight in his line of vision from where he's sitting. His hands unclasp and he wraps them around your waist, placing them on either side of your hips. His fingers dip just under the hemline of your shirt and an electric current shoots through your body. You close your eyes briefly at his touch. It's been so long since he's touched you, but you have to focus. Grasping you firmly, he pulls you toward him until you can't go any further as your legs hit the edge of the bed between his knees. He then wraps his arms fully around your waist to pull your body close, turns his head and presses his face against your chest. You hear him pull in a long slow breath through his nose, then exhale it deeply as he completes the embrace, pressing you even closer. You really have no indication as to what's going on. You haven't heard from Taron in six weeks, only to now find him here in your apartment. He still hasn't said a word to you and he looks as though he's been through hell and back. Now he's clinging to you as if it's the last thing he'll ever do, and you still have no clue why. You do know one thing however, he came here for comfort, and that you can give. Pulling your arms from his embrace, you place one hand around his back and bring the other up to his head, smoothing his hair back like you would a sullen child. "It's ok", you whisper as you run your hand through his hair over and over again. "Whatever it is, you'll be ok...I promise." You have no idea what you're even promising, but you want him to know that you're here for him, no matter what.

You stand here like this for who knows how long, stroking his hair, letting him have his moment for as long as he needs, as long as he wants. He doesn't make a sound, just crushes you to him until it feels like you are one soul, united together forever. Being here with him like this, after not speaking to him for so long, seemingly picking up right where you left off, just reminds you how much you care about him. Let's be honest here, how much you love him. How much you never stopped loving him, even for one second. Even when things were difficult. Even when things were painful. You've been in love with this man for so long now, you can't even imagine a time when you weren't. You will never be free of this feeling, no matter how far away he is or how long you go without seeing him. You're in this for the long haul and you really don't know what to do with that sudden realization. At this moment, he finally pulls his head away to look back up at you. The look in his eyes is that of pain, conflict and confusion. But most of all, you see reflected back at you what you were just experiencing in your own heart. Love. Unadulterated, unabashed, unwavering love. It's overwhelming to say the least, and you don't give it a second thought before grasping his jaw and leaning down to place a soft kiss against his forehead. You then move down slightly to kiss his brow against the little scar that runs through it. His breath hitches as you move to his cheekbone, pressing your lips against the delicate skin there. Moving lower still, your mouth brushes against the corner of his mouth. Pausing only a second, you drag your lips over to completely cover his and press them fully against his mouth. You kiss him gently, caressing his lips with your own. His lips are unyielding at first, he wasn't expecting this. Hell, neither were you. But it doesn't take long before he is responding in kind, matching the movement of your mouth with his. His hands grasp your waist tighter as you tilt your head to deepen the kiss and press your palms flat against his face. His cheeks are rough under your fingertips but you don't care in the least.

Your kisses quickly become hurried and desperate, and before you realize what's happening, he's moving you sideways to lay you flat against the mattress. He follows by crawling up onto the bed to lay beside you, and you grab at his neck to pull him to you again. You know you should be stopping this, but the fact of the matter is, you don't want to. And that's really all there is to it right now. His mouth moves to your neck and you tilt your head to the side, reveling in the sensation of his wet warmth against your skin once again. Your breathing becomes shallow and quick, you're getting ahead of yourself, you want too much. Need too much of him. Your hand instinctively goes to the waistband of his jeans but he pulls it away quickly to push it back down against the mattress next to your head. He clasps your hand with his and continues his assault against your neck, jaw and collarbone. Taron continues downward to ghost over your breasts through your shirt, kissing your stomach as he goes further south still. What is happening right now? You haven't seen Taron in what feels like forever, he shows up unannounced in your apartment, hasn't even spoken to you and now you're making out with him? Shouldn't you be stopping this? That thought is quickly shoved aside as you realize he's unbuttoning your jeans. You watch him warily as he pulls your pants down off your legs without hesitation, then chances a quick glance up at you before tugging your underwear down as well. As you lay here completely exposed to him and realize what's about to happen, a single thought flashes through your mind. What about his girlfriend? But that thought is quickly replaced by something incoherent when you feel your knees being pushed gently apart and you look down to see Taron's head dip toward the apex of your legs. Oh My God...

As soon as his lips touch you, all cognitive thought is gone and is replaced with barely controlled pleasure. Your head drops back onto the pillow and you bite your lip to keep from gasping his name. His lips and tongue start out gently, drawing slow and deliberate circles around your sensitive flesh, but soon he increases his tempo, causing your hips to rise involuntarily to meet him. He stills you by draping one arm firmly over your hips which causes a small whimper to escape your mouth. You know you won't last long, it's been so long and this is Taron for Pete's sake. But the feeling is deliciously exquisite and you want it to last as long as possible, so you clear your mind and try not to dwell on the fact that the world's most beautiful man is currently between your thighs. Focus. You close your eyes and let your mouth go slack, grasping the edges of the pillow under your head with your fists. You know if you look down at him it will be all over. His tongue dances over you in just the right spot, and the urge to lift your hips is overwhelming. The room is filled with the sound of soft moaning and you realize it's coming from you. "Taron...", you moan and he answers with a "mmmm" sound which causes an all new sensation to flood your over-sensitized nerves. Not much longer now. His mouth envelopes you as his tongue does things you didn't know were possible. You open your eyes to look down at Taron to find him watching you and DAMN. The look of fire in his eyes, accompanied with the ministrations of his mouth and the grip he has on your body finally send you tumbling over the edge, crying out his name as you do. He continues to lap at you greedily until you are entirely spent, the weight of your body feeling like lead against the mattress. He finally releases you, and the feeling is sweet mercy and intense longing at his absence at the same time.

Your head is still thrown back, eyes closed and chest heaving when you feel your underwear being tugged back up your body. Looking down at him, you see him pulling the blanket from the end of your bed up around your half naked body and you stare at him in confusion. With your breathing almost back to normal, you reach down once again to the waistband of his jeans, ready and willing to return the favor...or more. He catches your wrist gently but firmly, and places it across your stomach, resting his own hand on top of yours as he drapes his arm over you. Catching a glimpse of his groin and unmistakeable arousal, you know that's not the problem. So what is? He snuggles in close to you, tucking his head into the crook of your shoulder and sighs heavily. He places a soft kiss at the edge of your ear and whispers, "Goodnight love." So, you close your eyes and bask in the afterglow of your much needed release provided by the man you love pressed intimately against your back, deciding to worry about the rest tomorrow as you drift off into a peaceful slumber.

The dull grey hues filtering through your bedroom window tell you that it's early morning when you open your eyes lazily. Was Taron actually here last night? Did you and he...? Well, you did at least. Not feeling his warmth against you, you roll over to find him lying on his back, breathing steadily, mouth slightly open. You rest your head against one arm to stare over at him longingly. Why had he come here last night? Why had he seemed so sad? Why had he done what he did without wanting anything in return? All questions that you won't be getting the answers to if he's asleep. Not wanting to disturb him from his restful state, but also wanting desperately to finish what he had started last night, you scoot closer to him and lift up on one elbow so that you can place a soft kiss against his lips. You pull back to look at his face to see if the gentle movement has woken him. Nope, still asleep. You lean back down and press your lips to his again, firmer this time, then continue on to place slow kisses across his cheek, jaw and neck. He begins to stir which spurs you on. You work your way down his throat to his collarbone and pulling his shirt aside, kiss as low down on his chest as possible. You feel his hands come up to grasp your arms so you stop your onslaught of kisses to pull up and look into his eyes. He still looks conflicted, even after last night, but you are determined to erase any doubts from his mind that he may have. You smile seductively at him, then lean back down to kiss him eagerly on the mouth. He hesitates only a fraction of a second before grasping the back of your head and deepening the kiss with his tongue. You moan into his mouth and once again, let your hand drift down to the button of his pants. And once again, his hand clamps around your wrist before you can get anywhere. You pull back in frustration to look into his eyes, hoping to find the answer to your unspoken question, but all you find there is lust and want. Good. Before you can react, Taron whips his arm around your waist and flips you onto your back, pinning your hand beneath his. This seems familiar... Now he's the one bombarding you with a flurried panic of kisses; all over your face, your neck, your chest. The hand not holding onto yours begins to travel down your body and your heart rate doubles at his touch. You're definitely not complaining, but you want to know why he won't allow you to touch him. Forcing your eyes open and your brain to function, you attempt coherent speech between labored breaths.

"Taron...what...is...g....." The words die on your lips however as his hand slips between your underwear and your heated skin, and he proceeds to take care of you once more without bothering to let you have a turn with him.

Just as the stars are about to explode behind your eyes and all the air has escaped from your lungs from your desperate moaning, the sound of your name on Taron's lips almost shocks you out of your current state of desire. Your eyes snap open and you have to wait for them to adjust momentarily before focusing on his face.

"What??" You breathe out.

"Look at me. Don't close your eyes", he says huskily. He is still working his magic with his fingers and you have to concentrate a great effort on staying focused on his face as he does so. The pressure builds quickly again but your eyes stay glued to his even as the intensity grows, until you think you won't be able to stand it anymore. Your left hand comes up to grasp a fistful of his shirt and your nails dig into the flesh of your palm through the material. Dark pools of heated green is the last thing you see before you feel the tightness in your core and the electric pulse exploding through your body.

"Taron!" You gasp, just as you reach your peak and crash over it for the second time in one night; yanking his shirt toward you and panting into his face, but never taking your eyes off his per his request. As you begin to come down off your high once again, he removes his hand and drapes it lazily across your hip, then rests his head against your chest which is still rising and falling rapidly from your exerted breath. You watch as his head bobs up and down with your breathing, and you concentrate on slowing your breath to a somewhat normal pace. Once it has, you draw your hand up to your face to rub at your eyes, then drop it with a thud against your side as you exhale the last remaining labored breath. "Taron, what the hell is going on with you?" You ask, needing to know what's going on in his mind right now, regardless of what just happened. He raises his head slightly to look at you, resting his chin against your chest.

"What do you mean?" He asks, and you hear the scratchiness in his voice. As if he's either been using it too much, or not enough.

"I mean...", you reply, pulling yourself up a bit and causing him to roll away from you. He props his chin on his hand and continues to stare at you in confusion as if the past eight hours weren't incredibly weird. Amazing...but weird. "Why did you show up here last night out of nowhere after so long? Why did you look like the world was ending? Why have you barely said two words to me? And why did you do all this...", you continue, motioning toward your lower body, "without even letting me touch you?" Your eyes wander over his face, searching for some hint as to what is happening in his mind. He sighs heavily and pulls himself into a sitting position onto his knees.

"I'm sorry. I know I've been weird and I'll explain everything later, but...", he says, glancing at the bedside clock, "I have to go for now." These are the most words he's said to you since he got here and now he's leaving? What the hell?

"What?!" You gasp, grasping your knees and pulling yourself up the bed even further. "Leave? Leave to go where?"

"I have a prior commitment today. But I promise I'll be back later tonight. Wait for me?" He asks, and his eyes do that thing where he looks like a lost puppy that you know you could never say no to. Your eyes dart back and forth between his, trying desperately to know what's behind them, but you realize it will have to wait.

"Ok?" You say, resigned. What else can you say?

"That's my girl", he says softly as he leans forward to place a tender kiss against the tip of your nose. He then crawls over you to get off the bed and disappears into the bathroom. You are still sitting in the exact same position in a slight state of shock when he reappears a few moments later, then blows you a quick kiss right before exiting through the door.

You sit and stare at the wall for several minutes trying to process everything. What the hell just happened? Was this all a dream? Did Taron really show up here and do all those wonderful...things? You lean across the bed to see his hat lying on the floor where you tossed it last night. Not a dream... Ringing. Your phone is ringing. Who could be calling this early? You look around frantically trying to locate it, but it's not next to the bed where you usually leave it at night. Following the sound, your eyes land on your purse next to the door where you dropped it in your shocked state at finding Taron here. Practically crawling out of the bed and across the floor, you dig the phone out and quickly answer it before even seeing who's calling.

"Hello?" Your voice cracks.

"Morning lass." Your shoulders drop. Obviously you were hoping it was Taron.

"Rich? Hey. Why are you calling so early? Is everything ok?" You ask as you slink back to your bed, not willing to accept that it's time to get up yet.

"Yeah, sorry. It was the only time I could call. Busy as hell today. Did you talk to Taron yet?" Why is he so interested in your conversations with Taron?

"Well, yes...sorta. He actually just left. He kinda...spent the night last night", you admit, feeling the equivalent of the "walk of shame". Even though Richard has no idea what happened between you and Taron last night. Or this morning...

"Oh...I see. Well good. Then you know." You are situating yourself back down under the covers as he says this, all while balancing the phone against your ear. His voice is a little muffled and you're not quite sure you caught what he's said so you just go along with it.

"Yeah, sure Rich."

"Ok good. I bet it's a relief to know that Taron and Ashley broke up." Your eyes go wide and you whip the covers back off your body as you sit straight up in bed, your heart beating wildly within your chest.

"WHAT?!?"


	25. Feeling Good

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Taron surprises you again.

"What?" Richard echos with a slight edge of panic to his voice.

"What??" You repeat, now more confused than ever.

"Fuck...", you hear him hiss under his breath. "You have no idea what I'm talking about do you?"

"No Richard, I don't. What do you mean THEY. BROKE. UP??"

"Godammit. Why do I keep doing this?" He exclaims with a heavy sigh.

"I don't know but would you please explain what the hell is going on? Is that why he was being so weird last night?" Your mind is replaying the events of the previous evening and this morning, trying to locate any clue you might've missed that would've indicated he was harboring such a huge secret.

"I don't know about last night but maybe? All I know is he told me he was going to see you, and knowing what I know, I figured you might need a friend to talk to. But apparently he hasn't told you yet."

"No, I guess he felt that little tidbit wasn't important enough to share", you sigh. Laying back down onto the bed, you cover your eyes with the crook of your elbow. Why in the world would Taron not feel the need to tell you this?

"I'm sure he has a good reason love", Richard says tenderly.

"Richard, I'm just so tired of all of this. I don't know how much more I can take", you say, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes.

"I know. Just don't give up quite yet. You've made it this far. Give him a chance to explain." You already know that of course you're going to give him chance. You always do.

"Ok, thanks. Thank you for telling me. I'm glad at least you think I deserve to know the truth."

"You're welcome", he says with an exhale. "I'm so sorry but I have to get going now. Text you later, ok?"

"Ok Rich. Bye."

"Goodbye." The line goes quiet and you toss the phone to the bed and cover your face with both hands, trying to block out the events of the last few hours. Your heart is so confused right now. On one hand, shouldn't you be thrilled that Ashley and Taron have apparently broken up? Especially after what happened between the two of you last night, even though you have no idea what the circumstances are surrounding the break up. On the other hand, you can't help but feel hurt that Taron didn't even bother to tell you. Is that why he was so upset? Is he happy about the break up? Sad? Were you just a distraction? Who broke up with who? And why? Maybe you're just overreacting. Maybe he has every intention of telling you and just wasn't ready yet. You decide to give him the benefit of the doubt and not condemn him just yet. He said he'd be back tonight so you'll just wait to confront him then. Feeling resigned to this decision, at least for now, you roll back over onto your side, pull the covers up over your face and fall numbly into a restless sleep.

Several hours later, you reluctantly drag yourself out of bed and check your phone eagerly just to see that you have no notifications, figures. You decide to continue on with your normal routine of coffee and breakfast, even though it's closer to lunchtime now. Afterwards, you find that you still need a distraction, so you proceed to clean your tiny apartment from top to bottom and do a few loads of laundry, including the sheets from your bed. When that's complete, it's well past lunchtime so you make a sandwich and pick up your book that you have stopped and started more than twenty times. Even though your mind keeps wandering, you force yourself to keep reading, needing something just to pass the time. After finding that it is indeed an interesting book and spending a good amount of time curled up on your couch with it, you feel it's probably time to stretch your legs and get out of this cramped space, so you decide to go for a run.

Even though it's hotter than hades out here in the late afternoon L.A. sun, the pavement against your feet and the sweat dripping from your pores feels glorious. It's like you're literally sweating out all the tension, anxiety and confusion as you pound into the ground with every step. Who needs therapy when you can just go for a good run? With every corner you round, you decide to go further instead of taking the turn that will bring you back home. It's cathartic in the most primal form and you revel in the feeling of the oxygen expelling out from your lungs, the pounding of your heart and the blood rushing through your veins. In the end, you run over and beyond your usual three miles and go a full five. The time flies and you don't even realize just how far you've gone until you look down at your run tracker to see the mileage. Luckily, you are right around the corner from your apartment so you finally slow your pace and begin the half mile walk home to cool down. You pass the coffee shop on your way and as an impulsive treat to reward yourself for your efforts, you pop in and order yourself an iced latte.

A few minutes later with your coffee in hand and the sweat drying on your body, you enter your home and go straight to the dryer to pull out your sheets from earlier. After the bed is made, you look around your empty apartment and deciding there's nothing else left to do, you head for the shower. After spending an exorbitant amount of time lathering up, shaving, shampooing and conditioning, and enjoying the sensation of washing the rest of your stress away, you decide to follow it up with a mini pampering session. Clad only in your fluffy bath towel, you apply a cucumber lime face mask, then liberally rub in your favorite body lotion all over that smells like coconut, reminding you of the suntan lotion you used to apply in your younger days. Once the lotion has absorbed into your freshly clean skin and the mask has dried the appropriate amount of time, you scrub it off then apply your face moisturizer. Having only brought a fresh pair of undies into the bathroom with you, you pull them up your legs while keeping the towel wrapped securely around your body. Finally leaving the sanctity of your bathroom, you open the door and barely control a scream from escaping your lips when you find Taron sitting on your couch. Maybe it's time to get your key back? Glancing at the window by your bed, you see that it's already grown dark outside. Just how long were you in there?

"Taron", you gasp. "You scared me half to death", you exclaim, pressing your hand to your chest to relieve the thudding there, and suddenly remember you're only wearing a towel. You watch as his eyes take in your appearance, from your still damp hair clinging to your shoulders, all the way down to your bare legs and feet sticking out from under the towel.

"Sorry. I didn't want to bother you so I just decided to wait out here until you were done", he explains, and you notice his voice sounds much more steady than it did before he left this morning. You nod your head slowly then evaluate what you should do next. Feeling bold with the knowledge that you now possess, you saunter toward him slowly, clutching the knot of your towel at your chest. You stop right in front of his slightly parted knees, looking down at him, giving him one last chance to come clean before you make your next move. He says nothing, but you catch the unmistakable sign of his breath catching as he swallows, appraising you carefully under hooded eyes. Before you can think better of it and still grasping your towel so as not to expose yourself prematurely, you climb on top of him, balancing yourself by placing one hand on his shoulder and letting your legs straddle his hips. You can tell by the surprised look on his face that he wasn't expecting this, but he attempts to play it cool as he continues to watch you intently, the color of his eyes going darker right before your own.

You place your hands on either side of his chiseled scruffy face, then lean in to kiss him softly on the lips. He responds immediately, but slowly, gently, his hands resting lightly on your thighs. You are in no mood for slow and gentle however as you grind yourself subtly against him, and push your tongue into his mouth. You are rewarded with a soft groan as his hands slide higher up your legs, his fingertips dipping just under the bottom of your towel, and you take that as a sign to continue. Tilting your head against him to deepen the kiss further, your right hand leaves his face to travel down his throat, over his chest, past his stomach and lands on the waistband of his jeans. Pausing only a millisecond, you lower your fingers to rest on the button, ready to pop it open. Unsurprisingly, but disappointedly, his hand comes down to catch your wrist and pulls it away to pin it to your side. You whimper slightly in frustration but continue the exploration of his skin with your mouth. Grasping his jaw firmly with your free hand, you lower your lips to his ear and whisper against the soft flesh. "Taron, please let me touch you. Please...", you beg as you struggle against his grasp. You continue to place kisses against his jawline, neck and ear; and you feel him stiffen underneath you. Everywhere.

"I just...think...we need...to...talk first", he gasps between heavy breathes. You lean down to brush your lips against his ear again.

"You didn't want to talk last night...", you whisper seductively.

"I know...but...I'm ready...now", he all but pants.

Still murmuring close to his ear, you utter the words that will hopefully end all this pointless chatter, at least for now. "I know about the break-up Taron." His hands are immediately at your arms, pulling you back away from him as he looks hard into your eyes.

"What? How?" You cock your head at him as if this should be obvious, and understanding passes over his still lust-filled eyes. "Richard..." You nod your head once. "Well, we still need to talk", he insists and you sigh heavily.

"Fine", you say as you reluctantly peel yourself off him, trying in vain not to flash him. Maybe you shouldn't try so hard... You perch next to him on your knees, pulling the towel as close around your legs as you can. He just stares over at you crouched there, your knees brushing his thigh on the small sofa.

"Do you think maybe, you could go put something else on? It's a little distracting", he says as his eyes drop to the knot barely clinging to the dip between your breasts. You glare at him for just a moment, then get up from the couch and go to your closet. You know perfectly well that he can still see you as you turn your back to him and drop the towel, then pull a robe from your closet and drape it around your shoulders. You turn back around just as you are closing the robe and then tie it loosely at your waist. You're not going to make this easy for him, why should you? His eyes are boring into you and he inadvertently licks his lips and shifts awkwardly in his seat. Good.

You slump down onto your bed across from him on the sofa, not bothering to close your robe as it gapes open at your thighs. You are wearing underwear after all. You look pointedly at him, raising your eyebrows waiting for him to explain himself. He straightens up from his slightly crumpled posture and clears his throat before he begins speaking.

"How much did he tell you exactly?" He asks, not quite looking at you.

"Not much. Just that you and Ashley broke up." He says nothing so you continue. "He thought I already knew." He nods his head and this spurs you on. "I should've known. You should've told me. Why didn't you tell me Taron?" You feel a fresh wave of insult that he would keep this from you.

"I was going to. I just wasn't ready yet", he explains blandly.

"So...tell me now."

He exhales and you think he's going to clam up again, but he shifts his position to turn toward you and starts to speak.

"Ok. So, when I left here that day last month, I started to do a lot of thinking. I realized that I'd basically been a wanker and that what I was doing wasn't fair to anyone. Especially Ashley." You swallow down a bite of jealousy even though he's absolutely right. "So I went home and talked to her." You're surprised at how matter-of-factly he's explaining this, but you let him continue. "After a lot of discussion, we both admitted that we were together for the wrong reasons. We both knew it but I guess we were too afraid to be the one to end it. Until you came back into my life that is", he adds with a sheepish grin. "I guess you were the catalyst that I needed to take the plunge."

"But that was four months ago. Why did it take you so long?" You ask, more than a little irritated that he strung you both along, even though you are a little to blame for letting him.

"Well, I've been a little busy. I know that's not an excuse but it's the best I have. I honestly wasn't even sure you wanted to be with me", he says, looking over at you with sad eyes.

"That's ridiculous and you know it."

"Yeah I guess it is. But...there's something else..."

"What?"

"It's been advised to me...by some...that it looks better for my image if I'm partnered with someone in the business", he says warily, gauging your reaction.

"Oh."

"Yeah, so I was just trying to do what was best for everyone. I had all this pressure on me to "do the right thing", but I didn't even know what that was. The one thing I did know though, was that I didn't want to hurt her anymore, and I really didn't want to hurt you anymore. So I decided to stop being a wanker and do what I knew all along was right. The funny thing is, she wasn't even really that upset", he says with a huff and you blanche. Is he hurt by that? "The thing is...she knew", he continues as he looks pointedly at you, and your heart stammers.

"W-what do you mean? How...?" You'd been so careful guarding your feelings toward Taron. Had she really known all this time?

"I mean", he attempts to clarify, "she knew my heart was somewhere else." You relax but only slightly, at the same time, your heart swells at his admission. "She said she'd known for awhile but she didn't want to abandon me during such a pivotal time in my career."

"Oh, well that was nice of her", you say, and notice a slight sarcastic tone to your voice. She's too good. Why is he choosing you over her? Is he choosing you? "Did you tell her about me? I mean, when she said she knew your heart was somewhere else?"

"No, I wouldn't do that. You never did anything wrong." Not entirely true... "I didn't want her thinking you had anything to do with my actions. It was all me. I simply didn't deny that what she assumed was true."

"I see. And then what happened? Where have you been all this time and why did you wait so long to tell me?"

"I wanted to give you time. I needed time. I didn't think it was right for me to go running back to you right after I broke things off with her. You needed time to figure things out and so did I. So, I caught up with friends and family, I took some much needed rest, I appeared onstage with Hugh Jackman and Elton for their concerts, which was amazing", he adds with a broad smile. You smile in return and can just imagine how thrilling that must have been for him. "I just took the time we all needed to process it all. I hope you can understand that", he says imploringly with tired eyes.

"Yesss", you say, drawing the word out slowly. "But...is that why you were so upset last night? I guess I still don't understand that part." He drops his head and shakes it slowly.

"No. That was something else", he says, and you notice a slight edge of shame to his voice.

"Tell me", you urge him on. He swallows and looks back up at you.

"It's embarrassing."

"Taron, how many times do I have to say it? You can tell me anything."

"Well, the reason I'm here in California is because I'm appearing at the San Diego Comic Con", he explains and you're a bit surprised. Did you just assume he was here for you? "When I arrived at my hotel last night, I was tired after the long flight and a bit grumpy, and I got bombarded with all these fans. They came out of nowhere and normally I'm happy to see my fans, but it was just me and Lindsay and they were so over-bearing. It just really freaked me out", he says, and he visibly shudders at the memory. You immediately feel for him, you know first hand what it's like to have a panic attack from feeling so vulnerable and exposed. You just never thought Taron would feel that way. "I know I over-reacted but it felt real at the time."

"I'm sure it was real. You know I understand that feeling all too well. But, what made you come here?" His head pops up to look you strangely in the eyes as if this should be obvious.

"You've always been my rock. Whenever I've felt lost or anxious before, you've been the one to pull me back to reality. I guess I just needed to feel that last night so when I got in the car to escape, yours was the address I gave the driver." You smile at his words and consider yourself lucky that you can be this for him. You truly hope you always can be.

"Ok, that all makes sense. But I'm still confused about one thing." Humiliation floods your senses as you prepare to ask your next question.

"What's that love?" He asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together.

"Why did you...do everything you did...last night and this morning? Why did you do all that for me without letting me do anything for you in return?" You are trying to ask this in the most delicate way possible, even though you were practically throwing yourself at him only moments ago. He leans back and looks surprised, albeit intrigued, by your question. A small smile plays at his lips before answering.

"As far as I knew, you didn't know anything about Ashley and me. And I didn't want you to do anything that you would regret later. I just wanted you to feel good. I didn't need anything in return." His answer makes your insides melt and your heart take flight. How is this man real? Yes, he has his faults, but he more than makes up for it with his endearing heart, his humble soul and his innate ability to indeed make you feel fantastic. You smile more to yourself than to him and let your head drop so that he doesn't see his effect on you. Lifting your eyes to his again, you respond in the only way you know how.

"Taron, haven't you figured out by now, what makes me feel good is making you feel good", you say in a more sultry voice than you intended. The smile drops from his lips and his brows furrow, decidedly trying to infer your meaning. Just so that there isn't any doubt, you rise from the bed and glide over to him, stopping just in front of where he sits on the sofa. He watches you intently, tracking your every move with his heated eyes. Gazing down at him, you whisper, "Let me make you feel good Taron." Not bothering to wait for a response, you drop to your knees in front of him and part his legs so that you can close the distance between you.

Taron lets out a long exhale through his nostrils and continues to stare fixedly at you. You run your hands along his thick firm thighs, starting at his knees, and continuing all the way up to his hip bones. When you reach his waist, you finally peel your eyes away from his to focus on the waistband of his pants. You can see through your peripheral vision that his breathing has increased, the rapid rise and fall of his chest giving away his excitement. Running your fingertips along the waistband, you dip your fingers just inside once you reach the center to the button that is begging to be opened. You deftly work the button until it pops open, then flick your eyes back up to his to see if you will find any hesitation there. All you see however is intense lust and desire, so you smile slightly and continue your task at hand. You grasp the tiny zipper between your fingers and ease it down slowly, hearing the tiny teeth un-catching in the silent space around you. He lets out a shaky sigh, as if he's unsure about what's about to happen, but captivated by the thrill of it. Once you've gotten the zipper all the way down, you tug his pants down as far as they will go in his seated position. Taking another second to give him one last chance to stop you, not that you would let him this time, you reach your hand carefully inside his boxers to wrap your hand firmly around him, and his arousal is instantaneous. He lets out an audible gasp as your skin makes contact, and you peek up at him to see his brows scrunched together as his head lolls back slightly. You smile tentatively, then resume your attention to his body, pushing his boxers down and slowly moving your hand up and down his length. He is so incredibly smooth, and yet so hard at the same time; and the powerful feeling of holding him so intimately is overwhelmingly erotic. Your hand begins to move more quickly now, over and over, faster and faster; the increasing moans coming from his mouth exhilarating you even more. You suddenly have an overpowering urge to taste him, so you dip your head down, and keeping your hand wrapped firmly around him, take him sweetly into your mouth.

"Oh my God..." You hear him groan and you smile around him at the pleasure you are finally being allowed to give. Continuing your torturous hand movements, you swirl your tongue around him, sucking and kissing and licking your way over him. Finally, you take him completely into your mouth and the fullness of him makes your head spin. Keeping your hand at the base, you start to move up and down over him, taking him in fully and enjoying every last minute of it. He starts to move his hips, just a gentle tilt upward, easing himself even further. The delicious sounds that are coming from him assault your ears, reverberating off the walls with his deep groans and heavy breathing. You glance up to see that his eyes are squeezed shut, his head is completely thrown back and he is gripping the arms of the couch so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. The fact that you are causing such immense pleasure to this man thrills you to no end. You honestly don't know who's more turned on right now, you or him. You quicken your pace, sliding your hand back and forth to match the speed of your mouth as you feast on him. He moans your name and you hum around him, showing your delight in his appreciation for you. You feel his thigh tense under your other hand and you know he's close. You hear him choke out a few garbled words.

"Wait...I don't want to...you don't have to...you can stop if you...Ahhhhhhhh..." He gasps through punctuated panting breaths.

He's no longer capable of coherent speech and he stops, but you think you know what he was trying to say. You then feel his hand on your shoulder, feebly pushing at it trying to release you from going any further. You just bat him away with your free hand and hum a mumbled, "mmm mmmm", around him. You want to finish what you started. You want, no need him to have his release with you, just as you had yours with him, and you won't have it any other way. You pick up the pace once more, abandoning your hand around him, taking him in fully, completely. Your hands grasp at his thighs for support and his whole body goes rigid. He's got a death grip on the couch as you work him over deeper than you thought possible, the sounds he's making enticing you further and faster.

"Fuuuuuuuck", he gasps and his legs start to tremble. You know he must be very close but you want to prolong the euphoric feeling this is giving you, and him, for as long as you can. You ease up a bit on the intensity, taking him slower and gentler. You hear him try and catch his breath and his body relaxes just a bit. You want desperately to look at him, so you release him from your mouth to gaze up into his lust-filled, half closed eyes. You return your hand to him, working it up and down again so that you can watch him. He keeps his eyes trained on yours and the burning intense look he gives you takes you to another place. It's almost enough to make you lose it right here and indulge in your own pleasure, even though he isn't even touching you. You smile coyly at him, then replace your mouth over him, taking him in once again. You know it's time to let him have his much-overdue release, so you resume your pace from before, working him feverishly with your hand and mouth. He moans loudly over and over again and you match his moaning with your own, your lips stretched tightly around him. His body tenses again, from his toes to his shoulders and he begins to rock his hips madly against you. There's a frenzied moment of breathless panting, gyrating and groaning until finally, with the force of something unexplainable; he climaxes violently as he cries out. It seems to go on forever, but you keep working him until his breathing has slowed and his body stops convulsing. He is still panting slightly when you finally pull your mouth off him and gently place him back into his underwear. His body has gone slack and his head is slung back as he continues to calm his breathing. You nimbly fasten his pants and rest your hands on his thighs, waiting for him to come back to earth. When he finally opens his eyes and tilts his head down to look at you, the expression on his face almost brings you to tears. It's that of complete satisfaction, genuine adoration and overwhelming peace.

You smile tentatively at him, suddenly a bit shy at your brazen behavior. Taron then slides down the couch cushion to meet you on the floor and wraps you up into his arms. He pulls you into his lap and you stroke his hair gently, pressing his face to your chest. You feel elated that you were able to do this for him, and that he let you satisfy him completely. As you hold him like this, you realize with perfect clarity that his happiness means more to you than your own; good or bad, right or wrong. And you desperately hope you can continue to make him feel good, in every way possible, for as long as you can.


	26. San Diego

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You accompany Taron to Comic Con in San Diego.

You wake the next morning in Taron's arms, having refused him when he wanted to "return the favor" the night before. Before falling asleep, however, he had somehow convinced you to accompany him to San Diego for the second day of Comic Con, which you are already regretting. If there was ever a place you wouldn't fit in, that would be it. Knowing you need to leave early to get to San Diego in time, you pull yourself from his grasp and lean up on your elbows to place a light kiss on his forehead. He stirs and mumbles something incoherent, then his eyes flutter open and focus on your face.

"Good morning you", you say with a smile. He lazily turns his head to look over at the still darkened sky with only the faintest grey hue outside your window, then brushes your hair away from your face and grasps your cheeks.

"Mmm, not morning yet. Still night...still time", he murmurs, pulling your face to his and pressing his lips tenderly against yours. You melt into him and kiss him back eagerly, but then pull back swiftly.

"Uh uh, morning...see?" You say, pointing over to the clock next to your bed. "And we need to get up if we're going to this Comic whatever thing", you add, rolling your eyes. He lets his head fall back to the pillow and closes his eyes.

"Uggh. Fine. Is there coffee?" He asks, rubbing his eyes and stretching his arms overhead.

"Of course. I'll get that started while you shower if you want."

"Ok, sounds good", he replies, but then instead of getting up, he pulls you down on top of him and crashes his mouth to yours.

"Taron!" You say through muffled lips as his are still pressed firmly against yours. You decide to give into him for just a moment, and allow him entry to your lips and mouth as he threads his hands back through your hair. A moment turns into many as you hastily sit astride him, throwing caution to the wind and abandoning your time table altogether. Suddenly, he rises up to a seated position to face you, his arms going around your waist, his head dipping to your throat. You stretch your neck long to give him full access and straighten your legs out to wrap them around his waist. His hands go to your hips as he rocks you against him further and you know if one of you doesn't stop this soon, you will never get to San Diego. As Taron's fingers begin to work the knot of your robe, you realize it's going to have to be you. "Taron", you protest, pushing weakly against his chest. "Taron, we have to get up. We don't have time...", you say as his lips attach to your earlobe and your eyes flutter closed. This really isn't fair. Finally, he removes his mouth from your skin and tilts his head toward you, pressing his forehead to yours.

"Fine. We can get up if you promise me one thing", he says a bit breathless, staring into your eyes, the color of his almost black. You swallow down a lump and feel fire pool in your core.

"What?" You say, your voice cracking.

"You spend tonight with me in my hotel. In San Diego." Oh, is that all? Why are you having to promise him something when this is his event he's having to get up for? That's really neither here nor there, since you've resigned to the fact that you'll pretty much do anything for him, you already know your answer.

Grasping his face with both hands, you stare into his eyes and answer with a whispered, "Of course." He smiles then pushes you down onto your back, and you remain tangled up with him for a few more blissful moments.

A few hours later, after getting cleaned up and ingesting an appropriate amount of coffee, you are happily sitting in the passenger seat of Taron's rental car as he cruises down the highway, headed for San Diego.

"So", you ask, breaking the comfortable silence in the vehicle. "Why are you doing Comic Con?" You're not sure why it hasn't occurred to you before now to ask. "Is it for Rocketman?" That doesn't seem quite right. He smiles lazily over at you before returning his eyes to the road as he addresses you.

"Because, I'm a gelfling", he answers with amusement on his face.

"I'm sorry, what?" You ask, having no clue what he just said.

"Have you ever seen "The Dark Crystal"?" He asks, looking back over at you.

"Oh...yeah I think so. When I was a kid maybe? Is that the one with the weird puppets?" You are now vaguely recalling a strange movie from your childhood filled with odd puppetry and sci-fi fantasy. Taron laughs, pulling you from your reverie.

"Yes, that's the one. Netflix is doing a prequel series to the movie and I'm one of the puppets", he explains. "I mean, I voiced one of them. I'm Rian", he says with a grin and you can tell he's obviously proud of this, even though you have no idea who that is.

"Oh, that sounds cool."

"Yeah it is. So I'm there promoting it. Yesterday I was in a panel with Mark Hamill", he says with a broad smile. "It was incredible."

"Oh wow. Consider me impressed", you say with a smile to match his and truly mean it. "So what are you doing today?"

"Today I've got some more interviews and then exploring the exhibits. Apparently there's a pretty neat one dedicated to "The Dark Crystal". And tonight...," he pauses for effect, "we're going to a party at the Hard Rock Hotel." He grins widely and winks at you, but your heart jumps at the mention of this. Please not another grandiose gala, you really don't think you're quite up to that tonight. Plus, you didn't bring a change of clothes. You express your concerns to Taron as delicately as possible.

"A party? But I don't have anything to wear..." You stop knowing that this really doesn't matter in the slightest.

"I've taken care of that", he says coyly. Of course he has. You know there's no point in arguing so you sigh and stare out the window.

"Oh", he adds, bringing your attention back to him. "Richard will be there too." Your ears perk up at this, but then you immediately remember the last time you talked to him and how he gave Taron away on the whole break up thing.

"Really? It'll be nice to see him. Are you guys...ok?" He turns his head to glance strangely at you before looking back at the road.

"Of course. Why wouldn't we be?" He says as if he's completely forgotten all about it.

"You aren't mad that he told me about you and Ashley breaking up?"

"No", he answers simply. "It was an honest mistake. Besides, you were right. I should've been the one to tell you. Can't fault him for that." That's all he says on the matter so you leave it.

"Ok, so what am I going to be doing today while you're off galavanting around being busy and important?" He laughs again before answering but you just stare at him. You were actually being serious.

"You'll be with me of course. Unless...you don't want to?" He asks, and the hesitancy in his voice makes your insides go soft.

"Of course I want to be with you. I just didn't know if that was allowed." Once again, the definition of what you actually are to Taron is blurred and you never know what's expected of you.

"Yes, it's allowed. You've already been seen with me as part of my team. I don't think it will be questioned at all. Lindsay will be there as well, it'll be fine."

"I've been seen? What do you mean?" You ask, needing further clarification.

"You've worked with me a few times now, as my make-up artist. I'm sure you've been photographed and everything", he says as if this is no big deal. To him it's probably not.

"Photographed?? Why? When?" You are starting to feel the familiar sensation of panic take over and you're not even sure why.

"It's no big deal, really. Lindsay gets photographed all the time, so do the others. It's just part of it", he replies nonchalantly.

"Ok, I guess..." Taron looks at you with concern on his face then slows the car and pulls to the side of the road. You look at him in confusion, then behind you to try and determine what's happening. He puts the car in park and then shifts in his seat to face you. Removing his sunglasses from his face, he rests his hand on your thigh and looks fixedly into your eyes. Just the sight of those green depths is enough to slow your now racing heart.

"Hey... You know I would NEVER let anything happen to you, right?" You nod your head slowly as you continue to be transfixed by his eyes. "You mean more to me than any of this", he says, waving his hand around the empty air, but you get his meaning. "If you want, we can just turn around and go right back to your flat and make out all day." Your heart rate spikes again and you feel electric pulses shoot through your extremities. You know he's probably just being facetious, but still, WOW. Swallowing around the dryness that has now formed in your throat, you clear it so that you can speak coherently.

"As tempting as that sounds..." Understatement of the year. "It's ok. I'll be ok. You need to be there and I'm a big girl. I just had a mild freak-out moment. I'm fine now. Really", you add, when you see his brows have not returned to their normal state after looking at you like you might burst at any moment.

"You sure?" He asks, giving your knee a squeeze.

"Yes. Can I just ask for one thing?"

"Of course love. Anything."

"Can I have a hug?" You know you sound stupid asking, but knowing that you can now presumably have a Taron hug anytime you want has you feeling the need to take advantage of that as often as you can. His eyebrows finally relax as he removes his seatbelt and leans toward you.

"Abso-fucking-lutely", he responds as he wraps his arms around you and pulls you in close. His warmth and soft body pressed against you is all the reassurance you need, that as long as Taron is by your side, you can handle pretty much anything.

That theory is put to the test however when you arrive at Comic Con and are immediately swarmed by people. Taron's "team", including Lindsay, descends upon him as soon as he's exited the vehicle. They all seem to be talking at once, instructing him on where he's scheduled to go first and the inane details of his day. How does he deal with this on a daily basis? The convention center itself is packed with so many people in various degrees of costumes and cosplay, that your eyes go wide with the sheer frivolity of it all. If you thought the Met Gala was a sight to behold, well this could give it a run for its money. You begin to wonder just how Taron is going to be able to walk through this place without getting mobbed by fans who may recognize him. But at least that concern is put to rest when you are introduced to two of his body guards that walk in a sort of circled perimeter around him and your group. It makes you feel a little better, but only slightly. You wish desperately that you could grab hold of Taron's hand as you walk through this madness, but you know that would be inappropriate. Especially if there are photographers lurking.

The day's events pass quickly with numerous interviews, endless walking and much to your amazement, some pretty interesting booths and exhibits. "The Dark Crystal" one in particular, which you are surprised at being able to accompany Taron into along with some of his fellow co-stars, is indeed quite intriguing. You make a mental note to watch the series when it comes out, if nothing else than to hear Taron's voice. Through it all, Taron is as relaxed and cordial as ever, taking it all in stride and seemingly enjoying the overall excitement of the day. He takes special care in flashing you knowing grins or touching you in small ways that make your heart swell and make you feel at ease. At the day's end, the entourage disperses to allow everyone to retreat to their intended destinations. Much to your dismay, you and Taron drive the short distance to his hotel to get ready for the Hard Rock Party. You were really hoping he would decide to just skip it. Once you've arrived at his hotel and entered his swanky room complete with plush carpets and sweeping views of the Bay, Taron disappears into the adjoining bedroom and returns moments later holding a garment bag.

"Pour vous, madame", he says in his best French accent which makes you giggle. He continues to hold onto the bag as you slowly unzip it and reach inside to pull out a strapless black satin number with a tiny skirt that looks two sizes too small. "You like?" He asks, tossing the bag onto the couch.

"Well...", you start, eyeing the dress as you turn it from front to back by the hanger. "Where's the rest of it?" You ask, looking accusatorially at him. Taron frowns then takes a closer look at the scrap of fabric that's barely longer than a yard.

"What do you mean? It's perfect for you!" He exclaims a little too excitedly.

"Don't you think it's a little short?" You ask, thanking the Lord above that you decided to shave last night during your pampering session. He looks puzzled and studies it once more as if it has magically grown a few inches.

"Nah, you'll look great in it", he confirms. "Besides, you can't blame me. Lindsay picked it out and she's got great taste", he adds, sounding proud of himself for his assistant's taste in clothing.

"Did you tell her to buy me half a dress?" You ask and he laughs, even though you were being completely serious.

"No, I just told her to buy something classy and stylish. Just like you", he adds, playfully popping your nose with his finger.

"Kinda playing it loose and fast with the word "classy", but I guess I'll go see if I can squeeze myself into it." You're now really regretting the choice of the hot dog, chips and soda you had at the concession stand for lunch.

After freshening your hair and make-up, you miraculously manage to get yourself into the dress, with a lot of pulling and tugging, but you're only able to zip it up halfway. You wander out of the bathroom to locate Taron standing with his back toward you, fiddling with something in his hands in front of him.

"Would you mind zipping me up?" You ask quietly so as not to startle him. He whips around quickly and shoves something small into his pocket. He's changed out of his jeans from earlier and into a pair of black pants, and he wears a navy silk short sleeve button up that is open to reveal a white undershirt. He looks...delicious, and you're momentarily distracted by why you came out here. He smiles pleasantly and takes a few steps toward you, then motions for you to turn around by twirling his index finger in a circular motion in the air. You do so and wait in anticipation for his fingers to touch you. Unlike the night in the hotel room after the Met Gala, you wouldn't actually mind if he decided to unzip the dress rather than zip it up. It would be a pleasant start to the evening and could maybe get you out of going to the party. But, much to your chagrin, he pulls the zipper up where it lands securely between your shoulder blades, then releases you completely. You half expect him to kiss your shoulder or at the very least, whisper something into your ear, but disappointingly, all he does is step around to face you and pulls something from his pocket. "What's on your mind Mr. Egerton?" You ask coyly, eyeing his palm that's curled around the small object. He smiles at you and opens his hand to reveal a small black velvet jewelry box, and your breath catches.

"I figured it was time I gave you some proper jewelry", he answers as he opens the box to reveal a pair of diamond earrings shaped like stars. At least you assume they're diamonds.

"But I love my necklace you gave me", you respond, as you touch it at your throat where it still resides from this morning and not wanting to diminish the sentimentality of it.

"I know, and I do too. But I saw these in London and I knew they were meant for you." He holds the box closer so you can get a good look. Up close you can see they are one solid diamond each, not a cluster, and probably at least two carats a piece, and your eyes go wide at the magnificent clarity. They're extravagant but understated at the same time, and you know they must've cost a fortune.

"Taron, they're beautiful...but I can't. It's too much, I can't accept them", you protest. He snorts and begins to remove them from the box.

"You can and you will. Now shall I put them in or will you?" He asks, holding them out to you.

"Geez, you're so bossy", you retort as you hold your hand out to reluctantly accept them. He drops them into your palm and you pad over to the ornate mirror hanging in the hallway. You unscrew each back carefully and slip them into your ears, then turn your head slowly from side to side to appreciate the sparkle. Taron has followed you and is gazing at your reflection as well. You find his eyes in the mirror and smile. "Thank you. They're perfect." At this, he smiles back and places his hands on your hips as his head dips toward your neck. Finally. His warm lips brush against the sensitive flesh at your nape and you close your eyes against the thrilling sensation. He drags his mouth up the length of your neck, sending tiny goosebumps all throughout your body as he goes.

When his lips reach your ear, Taron murmurs against it. "You're welcome. Hard to perfect upon perfection, but I tried", he whispers, repeating the words you spoke to him a few months back. The huskiness in his voice sends chills down your spine and you want nothing more than to whip around, grab him by that silk shirt and show him just how much you need him. But you refrain, knowing that the party awaits. Instead, you place your hands against his and gently remove them from your body, feeling the agony that is always accompanied by the loss of his warmth.

Spinning to face him you clear your throat and ask, "So, did Lindsay get me shoes or am I going barefoot to this thing?"

Taron chuckles and responds, "Of course", before retreating back into the bedroom and returning moments later holding a shoe box with the word GUCCI written across it. He holds it out to you and you open it to reveal a pair of black strappy heels that are a bit too high for your liking, but you figure if you're going to be uncomfortable, you might as well go all the way. You carry them over to the sofa and struggling to sit in the tight dress, you somehow manage to bend and pull the shoes on. Standing again on slightly wobbly legs, you hold your hands out in a bit of a "ta-da" moment for Taron's approval.

His back is turned as he runs his hands through his hair in front of the mirror, so you clear you throat again and ask, "So how do I look?" You watch with delight as he turns to face you, his eyes raking down your body, landing at your feet, then traveling all the way back up at an agonizingly slow pace. Your heart beats a little faster in anticipation of his reaction.

"Wow...", he breathes out. "You look...absolutely gorgeous." He crosses the room to you and places his hands around your waist as he pulls your body close. He leans down to your ear and groans, "I can't wait to get you out of this later...", before pressing his lips to your flesh. Your pulse accelerates at his presumptuous thoughts, of course, who are you kidding? You want to be out of it and with him right now. You can't quite believe any of this is even happening. Wasn't it only a few days ago that you were wondering when and if you were ever going to see him again? And now here you are; standing in his hotel room, wearing a posh cocktail dress, preparing to go to a fancy party, with a promise of delicious things to come later tonight. It's all just a bit overwhelming and exhilarating at the same time.

Attempting to play it cool, you respond with, "We'll see. Now that I'm in it, I may not want to take it off for awhile", you add, giving him a little wink.

"I told you it was perfect for you", he replies confidently.

"How did you even know my sizes?" You ask, it suddenly occurring to you that although the dress is snug, it's a pretty perfect fit along with the shoes. Taron opens his mouth to respond but then you think better of the question. Holding your hand up you say, "Nevermind, I don't want to know." He grins at you then grasps your hand and lifts it to his mouth. He closes his eyes and brushes his lips against the back of your knuckles without saying a word, and your heart constricts at the simple yet tantalizing gesture. You only hope you can make it through the evening without pouncing on him.

An hour later, you are arriving at the glamorous Hard Rock Hotel and waiting in anticipation as to what's in store for you at the party. After entering through the revolving glass doors and checking in with security, you make your way to the elevator and Taron presses the rooftop button that takes you all the way to the top of the eleven story building. When the doors ding open, you are met with a sight similar to the one when you arrived at the penthouse party after the Met Gala. There are just as many people milling about and the music is just as loud, but instead of the rosy champagne colored room, you are surrounded by the night sky with panoramic views of the Gaslight Quarter. The first stop is a photo op area off to the right with huge lights and a bright blue backdrop with the Comic Con logo all over it. As if sensing his presence, Lindsay appears out of nowhere and instructs Taron to go have his picture taken. You don't even wonder if you are to be included in this, you wouldn't want to be even if you were. He gives you a small nod and then goes to wait in the short line of about five celebrities for his turn. As you watch the photographers prompt their intended models to smile and turn this way or that, Lindsay's voice grabs your attention and you realize she's still standing next to you.

"I'm glad you came tonight", she says. You are shocked and bit surprised to hear not only the positive words coming out of her mouth, but also that she is talking about something other than Taron needing to be somewhere. You turn to her to see her smiling politely at you. It's not the tight smile you usually see on her, but it looks genuinely courteous and friendly.

"You are?" You ask, still stunned at being addressed by her, and complimented apparently.

"Yes, of course", she responds as she takes two champagne flutes when a waiter stops in front of her. Handing one to you she continues. "Taron is happier when you're around. And when Taron is happy, everyone's happy", she adds, taking a sip of the bubbly liquid.

"Oh. Well thank you. That's very nice of you to say", you reply, taking a sip of your own champagne and noticing the slightly sweet flavor.

"Not trying to be nice. Just truthful. I hope you're around much more often", she says as she raises a manicured eyebrow. You've never really noticed how pretty she is before now. And nice?Is this the same Lindsay that has always brushed you off as a nobody? Maybe you were mis-reading everything before? Or are you mis-reading it now?

"Thank you. I hope so too", you reply sincerely. Then you remember something else. "Oh, thank you so much for the dress and shoes. They're beautiful." You don't add that the dress is also cutting off your circulation and the heels are threatening to make you lose your balance, but a quick glance in the mirror before you left confirmed that it was worth it as you had to admit, you look hot.

"You're very welcome, I was happy to do it. You look great. I love your earrings", she says glancing at them, and you feel your face flush. "Please let me know if there's anything else you need. Ever." You feel your eyes go wide at her remark and sudden change of tone from what you've previously observed. Is she drunk? Or does she truly mean what she's saying? You decide she must mean it, and try not to overthink it too much.

"Thank you Lindsay, that means a lot." She nods her head and smiles at you before sipping at her drink again, and at that moment, Taron returns.

"Ok ladies, all done. Shall we mingle?" Your heart drops at the word. You certainly don't expect him to stay by your side all evening, and the thought of wandering alone around this rooftop trying to interact with people sends your anxiety into overdrive. Thinking maybe a few more of these oddly sweet champagne drinks will help you relax, you nod, swig the rest of your drink and then grab another as a waiter walks past. Taron smiles at your action and takes a glass for himself. "Ok, let's do it!" He announces enthusiastically. He then offers you his arm which is a pleasant surprise, and interlacing your arm though his, you let him lead you into the party and onto the next odd adventure that has become your life.


	27. Blue Jean Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Taron enjoy the party.

The party is in full swing as you make your rounds amongst the celebrities, big-wigs and superstars. Taron hardly ever leaves your side as you approach group after group, joining in on their conversations already in progress as if it's the most normal thing in the world. They always accept him in with open arms and genuine smiles. Once again you are in awe of this man and his ability to make friends wherever he goes, and it warms your heart to see him interact with everyone so authentically.

The long narrow rooftop is intersected with a pool that runs the length of it, and inviting billowy chairs that surround flaming fire pits flank the pool on either side. The entire space is lit with soft golden lights strung on various trees along the perimeter, and that accompanied with the glowing fires give the party a magical atmosphere. After you've made your way around the entire length of the sparkling pool, Taron directs you to an empty fire pit surrounded by four of the comfy looking chairs. They are a most welcome sight after walking around the concrete slab in these ridiculous heels for almost an hour. Moments after you're seated, a waiter appears with a tray that holds a delicious looking assortment of various items to make s'mores. Of course these aren't just your typical boring Hershey's and graham crackers. They look positively gourmet with a selection of fine Belgium chocolates, graham crackers with a fancy name printed across them and huge square marshmallows. They are accompanied by silver skewers for roasting the marshmallows, and you are excited by the prospect of the yummy treat. A second waiter appears minutes later with an offering of more of the sweet bubbly champagne which you both take graciously.

"I could get used to this", you exclaim excitedly as you grab a skewer and select one of the fluffy marshmallows.

"Good", Taron replies with a twinkle in his eye as he takes his own stick. "Though I never did understand America's obsession with melted marshmallows, chocolate and biscuits", he says, cocking an eyebrow as he watches you stab your marshmallow with the skewer.

"You mean s'mores?" You ask, giggling at him.

"Yes, exactly", he responds as he stabs his own marshmallow. You simply shake your head at him as you lower your skewer toward the fire and watch as he repeats your action. You are busy concentrating on getting the perfect level of burntness on your marshmallow when you hear a familiar deep drawl above you.

"Hello there." Turning, you see Richard flashing his perfect teeth at you both. Although you've talked to Richard nearly every day, you haven't seen him since the Rocketman Premier, so you hope it's not too awkward when you pop up quickly to fold him into a hug.

"Richard! It's so good to see you!" You exclaim into his shoulder, then pull back to look at him.

"You too kid. Everything is...good I see?" He asks as he looks from you to Taron and then back to you again.

"Everything's great mate", Taron answers with a wide grin. "Will you join us?" Richard looks as though he's surveying the situation, presumably making sure that he's not imposing, then relaxes and moves to sit down.

"Love to", he says as he sits opposite you and Taron. "What's all this?" He asks, gesturing toward the enormous pile of sweets.

"S'mores!" You declare a little too enthusiastically. Richard chuckles, then picks up a skewer and follows suit.

After you've all successfully built and devoured the sticky scrumptious snacks, interspersed with polite small talk, you lean back in your chair and address the two men.

"Ok, so I think the three of us need to have a discussion." You watch as both their faces fall, assuming they have no idea of what you mean exactly.

"About what love?" Taron asks innocently.

"About us", you say, gesturing with your hand at all three of you, "and the fact that there is way too much deception going on here."

"Deception?" Richard echoes in feigned shock. "That seems a bit harsh."

"Ok, maybe deception is not the right word. But there is definitely an issue with honesty", you say, looking at him, then Taron.

"Yes, I guess I can agree with that", Taron says nodding.

"We all just need to start being more honest with each other. I'm taking the blame here too, but we need to make sure that if something needs to be said to someone, then it needs to be said to THAT person", you say, aiming this statement to Taron. You see Richard nodding his head from the corner of your eye and you turn to him. "And...", you continue, "we need to make sure that if someone tells one of us something in confidence, that it stay between those two people", you add, eyeing Richard thoughtfully. There is silence around the little campfire, the only movement coming from the sparks dancing in the air as you all remain still. You look between them both, waiting for a response. Finally, Taron is the one to speak first.

"I agree completely", he says, looking at you both pointedly.

"Seems fair", Richard adds with a sheepish grin.

"Ok good. Now that we got that out of the way. What's next?" You ask, looking around at the still crowded party. You see that there is a make-shift dance floor at one end of the pool that overlooks the Quarter, and there are a few people dancing to the music being pumped out of the sound system. Surprisingly, you hear the words come out of your mouth, "Should we dance?" It must be the champagne. Or the fact that everything feels just about perfect at the moment.

"I'm game", Richard says as he stands. You turn to look at Taron and see that his eyes are filled with something like wonder...and adoration...for you. Your heart swells and you hold out your hand to him.

"Whaddya say Egerton? You up for it?" He takes your hand and rises to his feet, clasping his other hand around your waist.

"With you? Always." You smile widely at him and then lead him to the dance floor. There's fast dance-type music playing, the kind that just melds from one song into another, so the three of you join in with the rest of the party-goers, dancing sloppily around the little stage. You are laughing and feeling just the right effects of the champagne and having an all-around great time, despite the fact that your dress feels too sizes too small and you'll probably have blisters on your toes by the end of the evening. You are having too much fun to care about any of that at the moment however, as Taron spins you around and around to some dance mix version of "I Gotta Feeling". Richard has disappeared into the crowd and you can just barely make him out several feet away dancing with a pretty blonde girl, or is he dancing with the attractive young man to his left? Who knows...either way, he looks as though he's enjoying himself just as much as you are which makes you even happier. Abruptly, the throbbing beat of the dance music stops and an all-too familiar tune drifts through the air. There are a few cheers and several heads swivel in Taron's direction as the notes float through your ears.

"Blue jean baby, L.A. lady, seamstress for the band"

You look at Taron fixedly as he smiles and places his hands against your waist to pull you in for a slow dance. You cock your head at him suspiciously. "Did you plan this?" You ask, eyeing him closely.

"No, I wish I had", he says, chuckling softly. You're not entirely sure you believe him, but you place your hands on his shoulders to let him lead you around in slow circles. Even though he hasn't left your side all evening, Taron's been careful not to engage in any P.D.A's with you, so you've taken his lead and done the same. But being here on the dance floor with him on this beautiful night, his body so incredibly close you can smell him, as he begins to whisper-sing these sentimental lyrics in your ear, has you wanting to touch him in ways you probably shouldn't. You settle in a little closer to him as you sway to the familiar song, his breath tickling your ear as he sings to only you.

"But oh, how it feels so real  
Lying here with no one near  
Only you, and you can hear me  
When I say softly, slowly"

His right hand comes up to cradle the back of your head as his left splays against your lower back. He tilts your head up gently to look into your eyes and you are immediately lost in his, transfixed by the immense love you feel for him, and the love you see reflected back at you. It literally makes your knees weak and you grasp onto his shoulders a little tighter, then encircle his neck completely, clasping your hands together at the nape of his neck. Now his lips are inches from yours as he sings in a voice barely audible, and your eyes drop to his perfect mouth.

"Hold me closer, tiny dancer  
Count the headlights on the highway  
Lay me down in sheets of linen  
You had a busy day today"

Suddenly, you want nothing more than to be alone with him. To be free of the confines of the peering gazes, even though no one is really looking at you. You just want to be able to touch him, to kiss him, to be with him in ways you can't be here.

"Taron...", you murmur up at him.

As if reading your mind, he responds in a husky voice, "Want to get out of here?" You nod your head animatedly as you watch the color of his eyes deepen. Without hesitation, he grabs your hand and pulls you off the dance floor, leading you toward the exit. You glance around nervously to see if anyone has noticed your rapid departure, but no one seems to be paying attention. Good. Once inside the closed elevator, he whips out his phone and types out a text to someone but you're not sure to whom. Lindsay? The driver? Doesn't really matter as he finishes quickly and stuffs it back into his pocket. Looking over at you, your heart rate spikes as you wonder what exactly is on his mind right now. Although if it's anything like what's going on in yours, it's not hard to guess. His eyes light slightly though and the corner of his mouth turns up.

"Before we leave, I want to show you something." You look at him in what you're sure is confusion.

"Oh...ok", you agree, wondering what he's up to. A few more moments of awkward silence, then the doors ding open to signal you've arrived at the lobby. Taron takes your hand again and leads you out of the elevator and to the right, toward a hallway off the main floor. It looks as though he's looking for something specific, although you seem to be heading to a bathroom or back area of some sort. You are just about to ask where you're going exactly, when you notice that the walls are lined with music memorabilia of all types and genres. Your eyes scan each exhibit of legendary artists and hall-of-famers as you pass them one by one until finally, Taron stops in front of one at the end of the hall. You both turn to face it and there in front of you encased behind gold-rimmed glass, is a pair of the highest platform boots you've ever seen, floating against a photograph of a young Elton John. Your eyes go wide as you take in his appearance and notice the uncanny resemblance to Taron in the film. "Wow...", you breathe out as you look from the photo to Taron. He is grinning widely at you, then he turns his head to gaze at it as well. His hand goes around your waist and rests at the top of your hip, grasping you firmly. You sink into his side and rest your head against his shoulder as you continue to stare at this piece of history in front of you. "How did you know this was here?" You ask, still looking up at it, imagining Elton performing on stage in these outrageous boots.

"I did a little research beforehand. I figured there'd be something of his here so I wanted to see if I could find it. Amazing huh?"

"Yes", you agree. What you find more amazing is the way Taron obviously looks up to Elton, and his genuine admiration and respect for this man that he so eloquently portrayed on film. You both stare up at it for a few more silent moments, then you turn to face him as you place your hand against his chest. "Thank you for bringing me tonight. I had a great time", you tell him, despite your better judgement that you wouldn't have fun.

"Thank you for coming with me. I know how you feel about these types of things so I really appreciate you making the effort", he says with a smile as he places his hand over yours and squeezes gently.

"Anything for you", you respond, and hope he realizes just how much you mean that. He cocks an eyebrow at you and you wonder what he's thinking.

"What?" You ask suspiciously.

"Nothing. It's just...you seem different tonight. I'm not sure what it is. You seem more...confident", he says, his eyes shining. You smile shyly at him and his compliment.

"It's the dress", you admit, knowing full well that only a dress like this could make you feel confident in a situation such as tonight. His eyes sweep up and down your body and you feel your face flush under his gaze.

"No...", he says, pondering this possibility as he places a finger against his chin. "It's not the dress. It's...you", he adds, his eyes twinkling.

"No Taron, it's you. You make me feel this way. You give me confidence." The levity of this statement sinks in as you realize that Taron is the difference he sees in you tonight. Taron makes you feel like the only person in the world, all while making everyone else feel just as important at the same time. You're not sure how he does it really. His brows crease together and you think you've said something wrong. But then he grasps your arm and pulls you toward him, placing his other hand against your jaw. Now finally, in the relative privacy of this hallway, he does what you've been longing for all night. Taron brings your face close and presses his lips delicately against yours. Your hands immediately grasp his biceps to pull him closer and you respond eagerly to his mouth. His hands come up to thread through your hair as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. Before you can get too ahead of yourself and feel slightly strange about making out in front of a vintage picture of Elton John, he pulls back and peers down at you hungrily. "Can we leave now?" You ask, just as hungry.

"Abso-fucking-lutely", he replies, and you giggle at his repeated phrase from earlier in the day. He takes your hand once again and guides you back out of the hallway and to the revolving doors that lead outside. Surprisingly, but not that surprisingly, your car is waiting on the curb for you. Taron holds the back door open, and you slide across the seat to make room for him to follow. You glance up to see that the black partition that separates the back seat from the driver is in a raised position. You didn't notice it on the way here so that must be why it's catching your eye now. At what point in your life did you start traveling by vehicles with black partitions? You giggle inwardly at this thought and hiccup slightly. Covering your mouth with embarrassment, you look over at Taron to catch him beaming at you.

"What?" You ask, in a feigned attempt at innocence.

"You're not drunk are you?" He asks, eyeing you dubiously.

"Umm no, not this time", you respond haughtily.

"Good", he replies with a devilish grin and scoots closer to you. You look him up and down and cock your head.

"And what do you think you're doing sir?" You ask in mock defiance.

"This...", he whispers before taking your jaw in his hand and leaning in close. You hear the ignition start and the car start to pull away from the road just as Taron's lips find yours. Your hands find his face quickly and you accept his kiss without hesitation. "Mmm", he mutters against your mouth. "You taste sweet."

"It's the s'mores", you clarify.

"Mmm mmm", he responds in the negative. "It's you", he says as he dives toward your lips again and swiftly parts them with his tongue. You moan with approval into his mouth and feel his warm hand resting upon your thigh. He tilts your head to the side to nip at your neck and jaw and you can literally feel your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You are suddenly very aware that you are not alone in the car and you pull out of his grasp slightly.

Motioning your head toward the front seat of the car you mouth the words, "Can he see us?" Taron simply shakes his head slowly back and forth as he devours you with his eyes. His hands are back on you in an instant and you decide that you no longer care that you're not alone, at least for now. As he peppers your face with luxurious slow kisses, his hand begins to travel upward toward the hemline of your dress. Slipping his fingertips in the space between your thighs, he continues his journey north until he can go no further. The dress is stretched so tightly against your legs that he's basically trapped.

"Damn this dress", he mutters against your skin.

"See, I told you", you answer playfully.

"Touché", he replies and leans back against his seat. You are little disappointed that he's pulled away, but it doesn't really matter because you realize you've arrived at your hotel. Thank God. After you've exited the vehicle, Taron takes your hand and practically drags you inside, through the lobby and on to the waiting elevator. The exhilaration of what's to come is intoxicating, and your heart hammers in your chest in anticipation. Once the elevator doors have closed, you snuggle in a little closer to his body and wrap your arm around his waist. Lowering your hand, you brush it against his backside and squeeze gently. You hear him suck in a breath at the unexpected gesture as he turns dark eyes to you. You lift up onto your toes to press your lips to his and tenderly pull his bottom lip between your teeth. His hand comes up to pull you away gently, and his eyes dart to the upper corner of the elevator as his head nods almost imperceptibly. You turn around and follow his gaze to find a security camera perched there, and understanding passes through your lustful brain.

"Ahh", you breathe out and release his body. He doesn't let you pull away completely however, as he rests his hand against your hip and presses a light kiss to the tip of your nose. Drawing back, he smiles seductively at you and you whimper slightly at the unfairness of him being so damn desirable. Finally, the doors ding open, and once again Taron leads you impatiently down the hall to your room. Fishing his key card out of his wallet and slipping it into the lock, he opens the door wide so that you can step through. You face away from the door and him, assessing the situation and taking a moment to calm yourself so that you don't jump on him too quickly. You're still unsure of where he's at mentally and you want to take his lead where physical contact is concerned, even though his words from earlier regarding getting you out of your dress echo through your mind. You hear the door click softly behind you, then turn slowly on your heel to face him. His eyes are like fire, taking you in from head to toe like a wild animal sizing up its prey. Have you ever seen this look on him before? You're not really sure but it's carnal, raw and delicious. Throwing all thoughts of self-control aside and as if on cue, you both move simultaneously toward each other, your hands going to his chiseled face, his going to your waist. Your lips crash together in a frenzied moment of passion, and you have to check yourself so as not to get too caught up in him too quickly. You want this moment to last, you need each moment with him to go on forever. Abruptly, he moves you to the wall, backing you up against it until your body is pinned between the hard surface and his warm body. A moan escapes your lips and you pull your mouth away to suck in a breath of air. Taron's body pressed against yours, his wet mouth on your skin and the groans coming from deep within his throat have left you breathless already. He dives to your jaw, scraping his teeth along the delicate skin as your hands move to his shoulders and swiftly push the silky fabric of his shirt down and over his back. He removes his hands from your body briefly to let it fall to the floor, then his palms are back at your waist, fingers splaying against your hip bones. Your hands wander up beneath his undershirt as you continue to kiss him madly, massaging at his abs and pushing the material up to reveal his perfectly creamy skin. He releases you once more to hold his arms high in the air as you pull the shirt up and over his head, leaving him naked from the waist up. Your eyes appraise his torso in appreciation, thrilled that you can finally touch him and see him however you want. His hands and mouth return to your body once more, and his fingers dip under the hemline of your dress. Tugging upward, he manages to push the tight fabric over your hips so that it's bunched up around your waist. You are happy to finally be free of the confining fabric, well somewhat anyway. His hands move around to caress your backside over the thin layer of your underwear, and then he lifts your legs to wrap them around his waist, pressing himself firmly against you. You gasp as you feel how much he wants you, and you wrap your arms around his strong back to help support your weight. Taron presses his forehead against yours and closes his eyes as if he needs a moment. His breathing has gone shallow and his chest is heaving. "You ok?" You whisper, suddenly terrified that maybe he isn't. Is this too much? Too soon? He opens his eyes to reveal a dampness around the corners and your concern for him grows.

"Yes", he whispers back. "I just need you so much", he confesses softly and your heart melts.

"I'm here. Always", you whisper in return, running your hand over his hair. He gazes into your eyes a moment longer, then tilts his head to brush his lips languidly against yours. Your eyelids flutter closed as you moan into his mouth and accept his tongue willingly, all thoughts of concern abandoned. You stay there like that for several seconds, minutes maybe; with Taron pressing you intimately against the wall and kissing you with as much drive and passion as the first time, and every time since. His hips rock gently into yours and you begin to see stars behind your eyes. Breathless yet again, you pull your mouth away to gasp into the air.

"Taron...please", you mutter. He grants your unspoken request by lifting you away from the wall and carrying you easily over to the bed. Depositing you down onto it, he straightens up and removes his pants slowly, excruciatingly slow. You grow impatient and sit up, reaching around to the back of your dress to ease the zipper down. Two can play at this game. Never taking your eyes off his, you slowly peel the dress away from your torso, then shimmy out of it at a leisurely pace. Partly because you want to give him a taste of his own medicine and partly because it's so difficult to remove, especially in a seated position. Finally discarding the slinky material and tossing it gingerly to the floor, you lie back down, sprawling out in your underwear before him. His eyes take you in hungrily and you hold your arms out to him, beckoning him to you. Taron obliges by crawling back over you, clad in only his boxers. He settles himself between your legs and you wrap them securely around his waist. He is propped up on his elbows and his palms are flat against your face as you grasp his shoulders tightly with your hands. The feeling of him is exquisite and you close your eyes briefly so that you can savor the euphoric sensation. His sultry voice murmuring your name inches from your face brings you out of your reverie, and you open your eyes to focus on him.

"I haven't got a condom. I can go buy some...do you want me to wear one?" He asks, his eyes searching yours in approval. You weren't expecting these words to come out of his mouth, especially since you had completely forgotten about that as well, but you think it over. It's a little late for that now, and you are on the pill after all.

"Well that depends, you have any other secret girlfriends out there you haven't told me about?" You ask, a tinge of humor lingering in your voice. He smiles a lop-sided grin before answering.

"No love, just you." Your heart literally skips a beat. Did he just call you his girlfriend? Deciding to wait until later to dwell on that little detail, you smile coyly at him and then reply with the only thing that comes to mind.

"Then I trust you", you say whole-heartedly.

"Why?" He asks, his brows furrowing slightly.

"Because I love you", you answer, without even having to think about it.

"Are you sure?" You don't know if he's referring to you being ok with him not using a condom, or the fact that you trust him or that you love him. But you decide to answer all three in one simple statement.

"Abso-fucking-lutely."


	28. Praying for Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You and Taron hit a very important milestone in your relationship.

When you wake the next morning, it takes you a good couple of seconds to remember where you are. Your head is a little fuzzy from the spirits you partook of the previous evening, but the remembered bliss from only hours ago overcomes any hangover you might be nursing today. You smile to yourself as you stretch your arms overhead and revel in the release of your tight muscles all the way down to your toes. Sure enough, your feet are little sore, among other areas of your body, but it was all completely worth it. You blush at the memory of Taron taking you over and over again last night, until you literally passed out from exhaustion. You turn only your head to face him to your right, and your heart skips a little at the sight of him. Will seeing this man laying next to you ever get old? You sincerely hope not as you roll over onto your side and lazily drag your hand over his bare chest. Twirling your fingers in the sparse hair you find there, you notice it rising and falling a little quicker. You peer up at him to find his bright green eyes gazing warmly at you.

You smile a little wider than intended and whisper, "Good morning." He whispers it back and wraps an arm around your back, pulling you closer to him. You lean up to plant a tight kiss onto his full pink lips, morning breath be damned. Turning your face away from him and laying your cheek against his chest you murmur, "I wish I could wake up next to you every morning." You feel Taron shift underneath you to sit up slightly and you turn your eyes to him again.

"Well why can't you?" He asks earnestly. You narrow your eyes at him slightly before responding.

"Umm, my job...your job...to name a few reasons", you say with a grin so he knows you're being light-hearted.

"Oh...well I thought maybe, now that we're...I mean now that things are ok..." He stops and you're not sure what he's getting at.

"Taron, what are you trying to say to me?" You ask, remembering the mention of the word "girlfriend" last night, and your heart stutters a little. He sighs heavily and closes his eyes briefly, presumably gathering his thoughts. He clears his throat then speaks much more eloquently this time.

"I was hoping that now that we are on good terms, you might reconsider coming to work for me. With me I mean", he clarifies, and you appreciate his attempt to play it off as an equal partnership. You smile at him, although admittedly you are little disappointed that this is where his mind is at, even as you know you can't accept.

"What about my job? I have to go back to work in a few weeks." The way his face falls makes your insides hurt.

"Right. I guess I forgot", he says as he abruptly sits up causing your head to fall away from him. He swings his legs over the other side of the bed and rubs his face vigorously, effectively turning his back on you. What the hell? You sit up as well, ignoring the fact that you are naked, and wrap your arms around his back, clasping your hands at his chest.

"Hey...", you murmur in his ear. " You knew I was going back to work. What is this really about?" He brings his hands up to grasp yours and turns his head slightly to address you.

"Yes I knew. It was just wishful thinking." He lets out a deep breath and you feel the pull of his back muscles against your bare chest. You try not to be turned on as he continues. "I can't help but worry that now we've finally found our way back to each other, it's all just going to disappear again when we're apart."

"Taron you know that's ridiculous", you retort.

"Do I?" He asks, turning suddenly and pulling you onto his lap. Feeling all of his nakedness against every inch of your exposed skin has you trying in vain to stay focused on his words and not his body. You gulp down a lump and stare into his beautiful worried eyes.

Placing your hands against his face you answer, "You should. You should know that you and I can get though pretty much anything at this point. We've been through worse than just being apart." His hands are pressed firmly against your back and you want nothing more than to be done with this conversation and show him just how much you want him and only him, forever.

"I guess I would feel better if I knew...", he trails off and absentmindedly twirls a strand of your hair around his finger. You tilt his chin back toward you, forcing him to look into your eyes.

"If you knew what Taron? Just say it", you practically beg before you go insane with need. He studies your face and swallows before answering.

"If I knew you were...my girlfriend? He says in more of a question than statement, and the air goes still around you. Your heart practically stops and every hair on your body feels as though it's standing on end. There is no movement other than his eyes darting back and forth between yours, waiting for your answer. You have to force yourself to pause a second before responding. Finding no words, you smile and lean into him, taking his mouth forcefully with your own. You kiss him madly, needing more of him, just like always. But before you've barely begun, you feel his hands pulling your face gently away. You pull back to look at him questioningly. "Is that a yes?" He asks, his breath coming out in a gasp.

"Yes!" You exclaim and pull him back to you. You can feel his smile stretched across his lips as you devour him. Your mind is racing even as your mouth and hands frantically explore his skin. Girlfriend? Are you actually now, finally after all this time going to officially be Taron's girlfriend? Thinking it must be too good to be true, but knowing that is in indeed true, you can't help yourself as you move to his neck and nibble at his earlobe. A low groan escapes his throat and you smile against him. Pulling your lips away just a fraction of an inch, you whisper sweetly into his ear, "Taron, I love you so much." You feel his sharp intake of breath more than you hear it, and he pulls your face away from his ear to press his forehead against yours.

"Babe, I fucking adore you. I'm so happy you're finally mine", he says in a husky voice before brushing his lips gently against yours.

His... You. Are. His. This is the mantra that repeats over and over in your head as you make love to this perfect man again. The love of your life. Your soulmate. Your...boyfriend. The word almost doesn't even seem like enough. But it'll do, for now.

Hours later, after you've both thoroughly exhausted yourselves and dozed peacefully in each other's arms, you wake again to find a new sensation overtaking your body. Hunger. And in desperate need of a shower. You pull yourself from Taron's grasp carefully as to not wake him, and have almost made it to the edge of the bed when you feel a warm hand grasp your wrist.

"Mmmmpf", you hear through muffled sheets. "Where are you going love?" You turn your head to look back at him and smile when you see one gorgeous eye peeking up at you from under the pillow.

"Shower", you whisper.

"Ahh. Shall I join you then?" You blush at his words, even after all you've done with him in the past twenty four hours.

"I think I'll go solo on this one. Not sure I can take much more of you at the moment", you say with a little wink.

"Fair enough. How 'bout I order us some breakfast...er brunch", he adds as he looks at the bedside clock and notates the time.

"Now I love you even more", you reply as your stomach growls at the mention of food. You blow him a little kiss then disappear into the bathroom.

The almost scalding water feels glorious against your deliciously achy body. You close your eyes and smile as you lather yourself and remember the lovely words Taron spoke to you and the delectable ways he touched you all night. You could really get used to this. At this thought, your eyes pop open and you stop bathing momentarily to stare up into the stream of water. Although you've declared that you and Taron are officially a couple, which is still a bit unbelievable, it doesn't change the fact that your life is here, well L.A. rather, and his life is primarily in London. Once Rocketman promoting is done and over with, he will undoubtedly return home for other projects. Where does that leave you? It seems you are right back where you started in the same old predicament of being on opposite continents with an ocean stuck between you. Shaking your head at this thought, you mentally chastise yourself as you try and not ruin a perfect moment by going down this path once again. You had told Taron that you could get through anything and you need to remind yourself of that it seems. Things will work out between you. They have to.

Finishing your shower and towel drying your hair, you wrap up into a fluffy bathrobe and step from the steamy bathroom to find Taron sitting at the small table with what looks like every breakfast item on the menu. Your eyes go wide as they sweep across the aromatic plates of food and then land on his sweet smile grinning up at you. Your stomach rumbles noisily and you wonder if he heard.

"Feel better?" He asks as he takes a piece of toast and begins to lather butter onto it.

"Much", you confirm. "And I'll feel even better once I get some food in me." You catch Taron smirking as you move to the table to sit down. "What?"

"Nothing", he chuckles under his breath then clears his throat. "Just unsavory thoughts", he answers and you see a slight blush cross his cheeks.

"I see. Well considering I'm starving, I guess I'll let that go", you joke. He nods his head and turns his attention back to his toast. "So what do we have here?" You ask, as if you can't clearly see the plates of pancakes, waffles and various selections of breads and pastries. Not to mention bacon, sausage and potatoes. And most importantly, coffee.

"Well I wasn't sure what you wanted so I kinda ordered a bit of everything. Hope that's ok."

"Ok? Definitely ok. Thank you", you offer as you select a tasty looking blueberry muffin.

"You're most welcome love."

After consuming an embarrassingly amount of food and feeling uncomfortably full, Taron addresses you as you are pouring your second cup of coffee.

"So, when do you go back to work exactly?"

"Well, I'm honestly not sure. They haven't told us exactly but it should be sometime mid-August. Why?" You ask, and you see the corner of his mouth turn up and his eyes do that twinkly thing. You know that look.

"Ok I have an idea. Don't get mad..."

"Ok..." Why does that look and those words have you feeling like you're about to agree to something?

"Ok, hear me out. I have this event coming up in a few days. You're not working yet, we just got..." He clears his throat. "Back together... Come with me and be my groomer slash date?"

"Oh, is that all? Well sure. I don't see why not", you agree quickly without even really thinking about it. He visibly relaxes as you say this. You're not sure you see what the big deal is. It's not like you haven't done this for him before. Maybe since you'll be going as his date as well? That part is rather exciting, you have to admit.

"Really? You'll do it? Just like that?" He asks, hopeful.

"Yes Taron. I'll do it. Is it back in L.A.?" You assume it would be, that or New York. A flight to NYC again wouldn't be so bad.

"Not...exactly..."

"Ok, so where is it? And when?" Maybe you should've found that part out first. He glances up at you under dark eyelashes. "Taron", you say, growing a tad impatient.

"France. In three days. For Elton's Midsummer Aids Foundation party and auction. And Elton will be there." He spews it all out in a rush of words, presumably hoping that it'll make the startling information easier to take. You feel your eyelids blink rapidly as you stare at his frozen face. After unsuccessfully processing all the information for a few seconds, you feel the need to confirm.

"France? For Elton's what and HE'LL be there?" You hear the panic in your voice as you grab at the tie of your robe and start to twist aggressively. Obviously you would love the chance to meet Elton...SOMEDAY. When you've had a little time to get used to the fact that you'll be meeting one of the best-selling music artists of all time, not to mention getting used to being Taron's girlfriend. Taron rises from his chair to come around to your side of the table and kneels at your chair. He pulls your hands away from the material and squeezes them gently.

"Babe, you'll be fine. I want you there by my side. I need you there. And yes, I think it's time you met Elton, don't you? He's going to love you. And you'll love him", he says as he brings your hands up to his lips and grazes your knuckles. The sensation sends a shiver down your spine and you have to remember to focus on what he's asked you.

"Taron, this is huge. I just don't know if I can..."

"You can. I know you can." You know he can still see the hesitation in your eyes as he continues. "Do you trust me?"

"Of course I do", you whisper.

"I'll be with you the whole time. I won't leave your side." The realist in you knows that this is probably unlikely. You're sure he'll have some duty to fulfill as the actor that portrayed this musical genius, which of course is completely fine and normal. But the romantic in you appreciates the sentiment, and you relax slightly at his calming words.

"Promise?" You ask, needing reassurance for something you know he can't actually give.

"Promise, with all my heart", he answers and you finally feel a smile cross your lips. "That's my girl", he beams, pulling you down into his lap onto the floor. You cup his face in your hands and search his eyes before pulling his lips to yours.

"Thank you Taron", you murmur as you pull back slightly.

"For what?" He asks, exploring your face with his eyes.

"For always believing in me. I don't know what I did to deserve your love, but I'm so grateful to have it." His eyes moisten and you see the pull of his throat as he swallows.

"No love, I'm the lucky one", he whispers, before grasping your chin and leaning back in to brush his lips delicately over yours. He tugs your robe off your shoulder and drops his mouth to the exposed skin. Dragging his lips up to your neck, you close your eyes and wait for the inevitable electric rush to invade your senses. Once his lips meet your ear, he pulls them away and whispers seductively, "But, you didn't give me an answer." Your eyes pop open as he continues to trail lazy kisses across your cheek and jaw.

"I didn't?" You gasp. "What was the question?" You honestly have no idea now, the feeling of his mouth on you is taking away all conceivable thought. He pulls back a fraction and looks heavy into your eyes.

"Will you come to France with me?" His voice sounds like he might as well have said "Will you come to bed with me." Your eyes roll back as he devours your throat again.

"Yes...", you moan, and you know you'd agree to just about anything right now. Damn this beautifully sexy and frustrating man.

"Good!" He says abruptly, moving you off him and you feel like a bucket of cold water was just dumped on you. "Then we need to get you back to your flat and packed. Flight leaves tomorrow!" You look up at him dancing around the room with what you're sure is a look of pure confusion on your face. What just happened? Taron is busy throwing things into a duffel bag while you remained seated on the floor.

"Why do I feel like I was just coerced?" You ask, jokingly, sort of. He turns to look at you and seems perplexed that you're still sitting on the floor. He walks to you and holds his hands out to help you up, which you accept as you wobbly come to a standing position.

"Coerced? Never", he says innocently, leaning in a for a quick peck on your nose. You shake your head at him in amusement, then take one last sip of your now cold coffee before making your way to your own belongings.

A few hours later, you are back on the road again heading to your apartment to pack for France. It still doesn't seem quite believable. Taron only just came back into your life a few days ago and now you're jetting off to France with him. To meet THE Elton John, as his girlfriend. At the same time, it seems like the most natural thing in the world. George Michael is playing over the speakers and Taron is happily humming along. It's a song you recognize but aren't too familiar with. You peek over at him to watch his mesmerizing mouth as he murmurs the words along with George.

"And, you cling to the things they sold you  
Did you cover your eyes when they told you  
That he can't come back  
Because he has no children  
To come back for..."

You become transfixed watching him lazily sing these haunting lyrics. He must feel your eyes on him because he turns his head slightly to look at you, then gives you a crooked smile when he catches you watching. But instead of turning away, you continue to stare at him in awe and wonder as he turns his eyes back to the road and finishes the song.

"It's hard to love  
There's so much to hate  
Hanging on to hope  
When there is no hope to speak of  
And the wounded skies above  
Say it's much too late  
So, maybe we should all  
Be praying for time..."

You're not exactly sure what it is that George is singing about, but you find it amusing that the lyrics of the song seem symbolic in a way. You always feel like you are praying for more time with Taron. The songs ends melodically, then some other pop tune fills the vehicle. "That was beautiful", you say in amazement.

"Thank you", he says quietly without looking at you.

"Maybe you should play George Michael next", you add with a little wink when he glances your way.

"Ha! I think maybe my music mogul icon playing days are over...at least for now. It would be hard to top Elton."

"True", you agree. You look back out at the road in front of you and contemplate this for a moment. You begin to wonder what Taron's next project will be and if it will take him away from you. Not if, when. Pushing those thoughts aside once again, you feel Taron's hand touch yours from across the seat as if he knows what you're thinking. You look back over at him as he takes your hand and presses the back of it to his lips. He keeps his fingers interlaced with yours as he places your hands down to rest against his thigh. You sigh heavily and can't remember the last time you were so content.

"I love that I can do this whenever I want now", he says dreamily, giving your hand a little squeeze.

"Me too", you agree. Then you lean across the seat and give his scruffy cheek a quick peck before returning to your position on your side of the car. His smile stretches wide across his face as you rest your head back and close your eyes.

The next thing you know, you are pulling into the parking lot of your apartment. "Wow, I slept?" You say groggily as you pull your crumpled body into a straightened position. "I must've been really tired."

"Yeah well, I did keep you up half the night", Taron says with a wicked grin. You can practically see the devil horns coming out of his head as he pulls into a space and puts the car in park.

"That's ok. I forgive you. But you might have to make it up to me later", you say, giving your own best devil impression.

"Mmmm, can't wait", he says as he reaches for you and gives you a long, slow sensuous kiss. Trying to resist the temptation to crawl on top of him here in the car, you pull back quickly and open your car door to get some fresh air. Stretching your arms behind you to unkink the knots in your shoulders, you open the backseat to grab your overnight bag. Coming from around the side of the car, Taron takes it from you and slinging it over his shoulder, guides you up the stairs to your apartment. He is whispering naughty things in your ear as you giggle furiously the whole way up, and as you reach the top, you are barely aware that something seems amiss. Focusing on the door, you notice that it's open just a crack. Stepping toward it, you push it open slightly and inspect the door and frame. Taron has apparently noticed it as well as he's put the bag down and stepped in front of you almost immediately.

"That's odd. Did we... Did we leave this open?" You ask more to the air around you than to Taron.

"I don't think so", he answers quietly, his face now set in a hard line. You check your bag to make sure you have your keys and sure enough, you do. Stepping inside slowly, Taron enters the apartment and looks around steadily. Not seeing any immediate danger, he steps further in and you follow close behind him, darting your eyes around the tiny space. If someone did break in, there's not many places they could hide. The two of you inspect every inch of the apartment, which only takes a matter of seconds and finding nothing, you relax.

"Well, we must've left it open. There's no evidence of a break in", you exclaim.

"Nothing seems missing to you?" He asks, still looking around with his brows furrowed. You follow his gaze around, double checking to make sure.

"Nope, everything seems to be in it's place. Not that I have anything of value anyway", you say with a chuckle. But Taron still doesn't seem convinced.

"I don't know...maybe we should call the police just in case", he says, standing with his hands on his hips.

"Taron, come on. It's fine. We were in a hurry that morning. I'm sure we just left the door open. There would be damage to the door if someone broke in, right?" You say as you cross the room to him and thread your arms around his waist. His hands remain solidly on his hips as he continues to scrutinize the situation. You have to admit, his concern is a little endearing, however unfounded it might be. "Hey...", you prompt gently and he finally looks down at you. "It's ok. You're here to protect me right?" You say as you lean up and plant a light kiss on his soft lips. You continue to move your mouth against his until he finally relents and releases his hips to press his palms flat against your back, pressing you further against him. He returns your kiss amorously until he finally breaks away gasping.

"Now who's doing the coercing?" He asks playfully. You smack him lightly on the backside and pull back, releasing him and hopefully the last bit of concern he might've had.

"I'm starving, you?" He nods his head vigorously and you're not sure it's food he's starving for. But you pull out your phone from your pocket and scroll through the vast food delivery options you have stored there. "Chinese?" You ask, selecting your favorite delivery option.

"Perfect", he agrees.

After consuming the delectable food and laughing over your equally ridiculous fortunes from your fortune cookies, you decide you better stop procrastinating and start packing. "So how long are we going to be there?" You ask, mentally preparing a packing list of what you might need.

"The party is only one night. But you can stay in Europe with me until I fly back here a week after that", he answers as he begins to clear the trash away. You turn to look at him.

"You're coming back here so soon?" You ask, hopeful.

"Well, Beverly Hills to be exact. I'll be there for a couple of days then it's back home to get ready for the Japan premiere", he explains and your head spins just thinking about his over-exorbitant schedule.

"Wow, your itinerary makes my head hurt", you say, turning back toward your closet.

"I know, mine too", he concedes, then walks over to join you. "That's why I let Lindsay worry about my schedule and I only know about two weeks out", he says, scoffing. "So what do you say? Want to spend a week in London with me after the party?" He asks, circling his arms around your waist from behind as you stare into the void that is your closet. You bring your hands up to rest at his and squeeze gently.

"As tempting as that sounds, I really need to get back here in case there's any news from work." You know this must sound like another excuse and spending more time with Taron in England does sound wonderful, but you really do expect to hear from the studio any day now about your return.

"I understand", he says, resting his chin on your shoulder and you are surprised that he doesn't push the issue. "Besides, we have plenty of time to be together", he says, sounding as if he's trying to convince himself of this as much as you. Nodding your head in agreement and resolving that the subject must be closed, you turn your attention back to your menial wardrobe.

"So, what does one wear when they are going to meet Sir Elton John?" You ask into the void.

"Well, I suppose one wears whatever one wants", Taron answers, although your question was somewhat rhetorical.

Turning in his arms and wrapping your hands around his neck, you respond, "Now Taron, you know I can't just wear any old thing to meet Elton. It has to be special. Is this party black tie?" You suddenly remember the dress you wore to the Met Gala shoved in the back of your closet that might be appropriate.

"Nope, that's the best part. It's more relaxed. You know, summertime in France?"

"No, I actually have no idea what that means", you respond dismally. Taron suddenly gets that tell-tale glimmer in his eyes that indicates he's probably up to something.

"Tell you what", he starts, and you prepare yourself for whatever ludicrous suggestion he's about to make. "When we get to France, we'll go shopping and I'll buy you a dress", he croons, obviously rather proud of himself for this idea. You raise your eyebrows at him and think this over.

"Tell you what", you counter. "How about we go shopping in France and I buy myself a dress?" He pouts out his lower lip and you have a sudden urge to suck on it.

"Must you always be so stubborn?" He asks with a sideways grin.

"Yes, that's why you love me", you answer with your own sly smile.

"Well, one of the reasons, yes", he agrees. Before you can argue with him further, he grabs your rear end and hoists you up as you let out a high-pitched squeal. He then deposits you onto the bed, covers your body with his own, and proceeds to show you ALL of the ways he loves you.


	29. Jet-Lag

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You travel to France with Taron.

The next morning, after finishing up your packing for an unpackable trip, grabbing a quick cup of coffee and making doubly sure that your apartment door is locked, you find yourself trekking through the LAX airport with Taron once again. Except this time, instead of accompanying him as his groomer only, you are also going along as his girlfriend. The word still sounds foreign in your head when you refer to yourself in these terms. On the one hand, sometimes it seemed like this day would never come, on the other and it some ways, it feels like you were always meant to be Taron's girlfriend. In any case, you're hopeful for the future and what it will bring, regardless of wherever you both end up geographically.

You both make your way to the international gate with plenty of time to spare, when Taron decides that he would like another cup of coffee and asks if you would as well. You agree happily and watch him retreat to a nearby coffee shop. Twirling one of the diamond star earrings around in your ear where it still resides, you look across the airport to see Lindsay walking toward you. You had almost forgotten about her then remember that Taron rarely, if ever, travels alone. Thinking back to your pleasant conversation at the Hard Rock party, you smile as she approaches. You wonder briefly if Lindsay is someone you could actually end up being friends with. Since Lisa, the area of your female companionship has been severely lacking. You both have similar careers, at least, you're sort of in the same business. And she seems friendly enough, who knows, maybe a bit of girl bonding is just what you need.

"Good morning Lindsay", you say in your sincerest cheery morning voice you can manage. You have only had one cup of coffee after all.

"Good morning", she answers and her eyes dart about the space surrounding you. Reading her thoughts you chime in.

"Taron's getting coffee."

"Ahh", she replies as she digs though her designer bag for something and produces a cell phone. So much for girl bonding time. It's at this moment that you wonder if she knew you were coming along on this little trip. Or about the current status of yours and Taron's relationship. Without thinking much about it, you decide to ask, in a round-a bout way.

"Lindsay?" You ask timidly.

"Hmmm?" She replies absent-mindedly while still scrolling through her phone.

"Is this ok?"

"Is what ok dear?" She asks not looking up. Her use of the word "dear" makes your eyes roll slightly as you are most likely around the same age. You're not sure how to voice what it is you're trying to convey, but you try anyway.

"This. Me and Taron. Us..." You're not sure how much she knows but she seems to be pretty intuitive. Lindsay finally looks up from her phone, thumb poised over whatever screen she was previously pouring over. She clicks the side button to shut it off and stuffs it back down into her bag before taking a seat next to you.

"You'll have to be a little more clear as to what you mean", she says, cocking that eyebrow at you.

"Well...", you begin. "Me going to France with him as his umm...groomer and well, his girlfriend?" You watch as her eyebrows both shoot up simultaneously. She didn't know. Apparently Taron doesn't tell her everything. She seems to process this new information for a moment and then plasters that classic PR smile back onto her face.

"I think it's fabulous." You visibly relax with a heavy sigh.

"Really? You don't think it's too soon after breaking up with Ashley? Won't photographers be there?" The thought of being photographed on Taron's arm makes your blood feel like ice, no matter how much you love the thought of actually being on his arm. You just wish it wasn't where the whole world could see. Her face suddenly changes and you see what looks like apprehension cross her features. She covers quickly though and replaces the look with her usual calm and perfect face.

"I think it will be fine. Whatever happens...happens", she says with a tiny smile, and you notice that she doesn't quite look you in the eyes. You are wondering what that means exactly as she opens her mouth to speak again, but before she can say anything more, Taron returns, two coffees in hand.

"Hey there Linds, sorry, should've grabbed you one too", he says as he hands you your cup.

"No worries", she replies as she stands. "I'll go grab myself one. You guys might like to have a little chat", she says looking pointedly from you to Taron. You feel your eyebrows furrow with confusion but looking over at Taron, he seems oblivious, so you let her cryptic weirdness go.

"So", Taron breaks the silence as he takes a sip of his steaming coffee, "What were you girls talking about?" You stare at him for a moment, contemplating if you should tell him about your brief conversation with Lindsay and ask him what he thinks she meant. You decide against it however, thinking it's probably nothing. You don't know her very well and she might've simply been making polite conversation.

"Oh, the usual. Girl talk", you say with a wink, playing it off.

"Ahh, so me then?" He says in a cocky tone.

"Could you be more full of yourself?" You say jokingly, pushing at his shoulder lightly.

"You know you love it", he responds, grinning stupidly at you.

"I know I love you", you answer matter-of-factly.

"And that's all that matters." Wow, this man. How did you even get here with him? That thought tugs at your heart as a disembodied voice comes over the p.a. system announcing that it is time to board your flight. "Ready love?" Taron asks as he stands and reaches for your hand which you take immediately.

"Ready", you confirm, although in your mind you're not quite sure. But you let him lead you to short line of people waiting to board first class, and then follow him onto the jetway and into the waiting aircraft. Honestly, you know in your heart that you would follow him anywhere, and this is the thought that both comforts and terrifies you as you prepare to fly across the world with this man.

An hour into the flight, once you've reached your cruising altitude and started on your second mimosa, Taron turns to you and asks you a question you weren't expecting and you nearly choke on the sip you just took.

"Why did you agree to come with me?" You set your glass down on the tray table in front of you and prepare to answer his question.

"Well...I suppose...I would like to see France again. The last time I was there it was such a whirlwind of a trip", you say, thinking back to your spontaneous summer trip with Lisa. "And, of course I would love to meet Elton, however scary that might be." You watch as his lip curls in a little smile as he listens to you. "And, well ,because you asked me."

"But I've asked you things before and you always seem to need so much...convincing", he adds with a grin.

"I don't know, I guess it's different now", you say, thinking this over.

"Why?" He asks, genuinely seeming curious.

"Because we're together." His eyes flutter closed for just a moment and his adam's apple bobs as he swallows.

"You don't know how happy that makes me", he says after he opens his eyes again.

"I think I do", you say, smiling at him. Taron then grabs your hand and places a tender kiss on the tips of your index and middle finger. The sensation sends a warm tingly sensation throughout your body and you suddenly wonder just how many more hours are left of this flight. You want nothing more than to be alone with him again. You just can't seem to get enough of this man. You move your hand to his clean shaven jaw to caress him just as tenderly and sigh deeply as you stare into his mesmerizing eyes. Geez, you feel like a damn school girl with an enormous crush, but it's so much stronger than anything you've ever felt for any other man before. This feeling you get when you're with him is just so intense, you can't ever imagine not feeling this way about him. Ever. And that exhilarates and frightens you at the same time. The moment is interrupted as Lindsay taps on his shoulder from her seat behind you and hands him some sort of document that he needs to sign. You use the moment to sit back in your seat and take a deep breath. Grabbing your champagne glass, you down the rest of your drink and then hand the empty flute to a passing flight attendant. Your anxiety is beginning to flare and you're not sure why. Could it be because you're finally with the literal man of your dreams and now you're just waiting for the metaphorical other shoe to drop? Closing your eyes, you rest your head back and try to push those thoughts right back out of your brain. You know it's useless to think this way, but you just can't help it. Something always seems to go wrong where you and Taron are concerned and you can't help but wonder what it will be this time. The feeling of a warm hand on your arm pulls you from your thoughts and you open your eyes to find a troubled expression staring back at you.

"You ok babe?" He asks, brows scrunched together.

"Yes, fine. Just ready to get there", you lie.

"Oh, well I'm afraid we've got some time to go love", he states, glancing at his watch. "Do you want to get some rest?"

"No, I'm not sleepy. Too wired I think. Why don't you distract me?" One eyebrow raises in a look of pure evil.

"What did you have in mind?" He asks a little too sensually, leaning in close. To say the thought of sneaking off to the lavatory with him hasn't crossed your mind would be a lie, but you're not quite ready to join the mile high club just yet. You smile at him before continuing.

"Talk to me. Tell me something about you I don't know." Taron presses his fingers to his lips and looks toward the ceiling of the aircraft as if he's putting some serious thought into this.

"Something you don't know...", he drawls out slowly as he taps his soft lips. Lips that you wish you could devour at the moment, but you try as hard as you can to dismiss that line of thinking. "Oh!" He exclaims so suddenly that you are snapped out of your lustful thoughts and involuntarily lean back a fraction of an inch. "Did you know that in my first production as a teenager in my youth theater, I had to wear a dress on stage?"

"No...", you say chuckling. "How old were you?"

"Umm, I think 14, almost 15", he answers but doesn't add anything more.

"Oh wow, that must've been tough. Adolescence is hard enough", you say, imagining a young Taron and wondering what he must've been like.

"Yeah, you know, it was. It definitely caused me some anxiety. I mean, you're already so uncomfortable in your own skin at that age, and then to go in front of so many people like that, it was... interesting, to say the least." You watch as his eyes focus on something just past your shoulder, presumably remembering what it was like to be that young person on stage like that. You see his eyes twinkle slightly and watch as the curve of his mouth lifts into a smile, then focuses his eyes back on you. "That first night though", he says softly and you lean closer to hear him over the engine noise, "That first night they just broke out into hysterics." You suddenly feel sorry for 14 year old Taron, and wish that you could comfort that anxious little boy. Taron continues and you watch his eyes intently as he speaks. "I realized, that they weren't laughing at me, but at my character. And that's when I knew..."

"Knew what?" You whisper, unable to speak any louder at the sweet innocence you see before you.

"I knew, that I wanted to be a performer...an actor, forever."

"Wow", is all you can manage to speak, utterly in awe once again at this man and the passion he has for what he does. Fascinated by his story of how he fell in love with acting, you continue to talk with him about his time at drama school, and what his experiences were that shaped him into the person he is today.

Being with Taron like this, in such a simple yet meaningful way, you realize just how much you missed talking to him. Not just talking to him, but really conversing with him and all the special little things that come along with that. The way his forehead crinkles when he's processing a thought or trying to think of a word. The way his eyes sparkle when he's taking about something he's passionate about. The way his voice goes up an octave when he's thinking of an answer. All of it just reinforces how much you love him, how much you adore him, how much you can't even bear the thought of being without him. And this is the thought that scares the living shit out of you.

You spend the rest of the flight eating and drinking, laughing and talking, dozing on Taron's shoulder and even stealing a few hidden kisses here and there. You quite literally feel like you're on cloud nine by the time the plane begins its decent into the French airport.

After touching down and navigating the Nice Côte d'Azur airport with Taron, Lindsay and the bodyguard that met you at the gate, you find yourself bumping along the darkened French landscape in another unmarked black vehicle headed toward Antibes. You suddenly find yourself very tired and calculate in your head that you just lost nine hours between L.A. and your current foreign location, and it's actually in the wee hours of the morning here. Looking over at Taron, you notice that he's fresh-faced and bright eyed as usual. How does he always manage to look so good all the time? Even after a twelve hour flight. It's annoying really. He catches you staring and gives you a warm smile to which you return. Luckily, the hotel isn't too far away and it's not long before you are pulling up to the luxurious Royal Antibes Hotel, overlooking the Mediterranean Sea. You would be more amazed at the grandiose splendor of this place if it weren't for your current exhausted state. As it is, Taron has to practically hold you up in the elevator on the way up to your room. You hadn't thought to ask if you'd be sharing a room with him, what with you technically being here on business, but that thought is quickly dismissed as he opens the door and holds it open for you to reveal and posh room complete with king size bed that looks just a little more than inviting.

Once the bellman has deposited your luggage and Taron has tipped him appropriately, he turns to you with a wide grin on his face.

"Well? What do you think?" He asks, spreading his arms wide and looking around the room. "Not too shabby huh?" He asks as his eyes finally land back on you. You glance half-heartedly around the room and notice that it is indeed lovely. Along with the bed that is spread with the fluffiest looking duvet you've ever seen and orange pillows stacked high against the dark wood headboard, there is a desk with an elaborate arrangement of flowers made up of tulips and other blooms, that match the colors of the pillows. There is a balcony just beyond the bed that you can only imagine looks out at the sea, and the faint smell of sea salt that you now notice permeating the room confirms that. Paintings of seascapes and sailboats are scattered about the walls, and the bathroom is all in white marble and tile with shiny steel hardware. There is another room off to the side that looks to hold white leather furniture, a flat screen tv and a glass coffee table with more flowers.

"It's beautiful Taron. I wouldn't have expected anything less", you agree with a sleepy smile.

"Aww, you look exhausted", he says, concern etching his brows as he walks to you.

"Thanks?" You laugh in mock offense.

"You know what I mean. You should get some sleep."

"I don't know why I'm so tired", you say as you stifle a yawn. I know we're nine hours ahead but it's only...", you trail off as you attempt the math to figure out the time in L.A. but quickly give up. "Oh I don't even know what time it is here", you exhale and Taron chuckles.

"It's the jet-lag. You'll be fine after a few hours sleep", he assures you as he massages your shoulders gently. The sensation has you swiftly forgetting about sleep and imagining other things you could be doing in that enormous bed. But you try your best to ignore your unsavory thoughts.

"Aren't you tired?" You ask observing his still sparkling eyes.

"Not really. I guess I'm used to it. I've got a meeting with Lindsay and Rachel in a few minutes anyway", he says glancing at his watch distractedly. You feel your brows knot and an unwelcome feeling floods your body. Jealousy.

"Who's Rachel?" You ask, envy pooling in your gut.

"My other publicist. I'm sure I've mentioned her?" He says, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear.

"No, I don't think so", you say, trying to remember if you've heard her name before.

"Oh, well she mainly represents me in Europe", he says as an explanation, which is good enough for you.

"Ok, but a meeting? At this hour?" You don't exactly know what time it is, but you know it's late. Or early rather. In any case, an odd hour to have a meeting. And even though you want nothing more than to crawl into that bed and sleep for hours, you were sort of hoping, and assuming, that he would be joining you.

"Yes but remember, we're still on L.A. time", he says with a wink that does nothing to ease your disappointment. Taron must notice that you still look disturbed so he puts on his most reassuring face as he addresses you. "Don't worry love, I'll be back before you wake. You won't even know I'm gone", he croons as he strokes your cheek with his thumb. The feeling of his warmth against your skin and his sweet words cause desire to bloom within you, and you grab his neck with both hands to pull him toward you. Pressing your lips fully against him, you kiss him long and hard until he's left a bit breathless when you finally pull away.

"Taron, I will always know when you're gone", you gasp through slightly labored breath.

"I know", he says catching his own breath. "But you get some sleep. I'll join you in a little while, and then when we wake up tomorrow...er...today, we'll go find you that dress", he says with a smile as he taps your nose lovingly. Before he can pull his finger away, you capture his hand with yours and press the tip of his finger to your lips. You look up at him under your eyelashes as you then press each finger in turn delicately to your mouth. His pupils dilate as he watches you try your best to seduce him in your sleepy state. "You make it really difficult for a man to leave", he groans in a voice two octaves lower than before, and you smile against his hand.

"Is it working?" You ask coyly.

"Almost, but you really should rest and I've got to get to that meeting", he says reluctantly as he pulls his hand away from your face.

"Fine", you agree with defeat. "Go to your silly meeting", you say in jest. "I'll just be here dreaming about you."

"Promise?" He asks solemnly, stroking your face once more.

"Always", you confirm. "Now go before I throw you onto that bed and take advantage of you", you respond as you pull from his grasp and head toward your suitcase. Before you can get very far, you feel his arms go around your waist as he crushes his body to yours and leans in close.

Pressing his lips to your ear he growls, "Looking forward to that love", before nipping your skin lightly that sends chills straight to your nether regions. He then releases you as quickly as he grabbed you and turns away. "Be back soon", he says over his shoulder as he walks toward the door and takes his exit. You shake your head at him as he leaves, then open your suitcase to retrieve your toiletries and pj's. Holding the soft cotton pajama set in your hands, you're now wishing you had splurged on some sexier night attire to match this fancy hotel room. Maybe you can sneak away while you're out shopping later and buy something. Taking your belongings into the huge bathroom, you gasp when you see the giant garden tub in the corner, complete with jet sprays and two faucets on opposite ends. It's big enough to hold two adults from end to end. Maybe you and Taron will have time to take advantage of this particular perk later, you think as a smile tugs at your lips. After you've brushed your teeth, washed your face and changed into your boring comfy pj's, you climb into the gloriously squishy bed, turn out the light and are asleep within minutes.

In your dream, you are slow dancing with Taron. There's music coming from somewhere, but it's very faint and you can't quite make out what's playing. Your head is on his shoulder, his arms wrapped tight around your waist as you sway back and forth to the haunting distant melody. Suddenly, Taron tilts your chin up and focuses intently on your eyes. You think he's going to kiss you, but instead his mouth starts moving at an exaggerated slow pace. You see his lips forming words but no sound is coming out. You scrunch your brows and focus gravely on his face to determine what he's trying to say. His features transform into something serious and complex, like he's deeply disturbed by something, but you don't know what it could be. You try and ask him what it is that he's saying, but you find that you have no words either. You realize that the music has stopped and now you hear another sound in the distance. It's vague and unclear, but it's definitely a voice, pleading with you from some other place. The voice is desperate and panicked and you just want it to stop, but it only becomes more clear and a bit louder. You strain your ears to understand. The voice is familiar, it's a voice you cherish, that you would know anywhere. It's Taron's voice. Taron is calling to you from somewhere, but how can that be because he's right here in front of you. You look back at the anguished eyes of the man you love that are boring into you. What is he trying to say? You would do anything to make the agony stop but you don't know what he wants. You squeeze your eyes shut so that you can just focus on the voice. It's louder now, much louder, as if he's standing right in front of you. But he is standing right in front of you, isn't he? You're so confused. You can nearly make it out now, you can almost understand what he's trying to say. Just a few more seconds and you'll know. Finally the voice is right in your ear now as it yells, "DON'T GO!"

Your eyes fly open and your heart is racing as you look around the empty dark room. Is Taron here? Is he trying to tell you something? As your eyes adjust to the darkness, and the fuzziness in your mind clears, you glance around to find that you are indeed alone. What time is it? Taron still isn't back? How long have you been asleep? You rub at your face vigorously to erase the image of his haunted eyes and terrified voice. What was that even about? Why can't you ever have a nice lovely dream about Taron? Maybe it's just the fact that so much has happened in such a short amount of time. Maybe it's because you're in a strange place with no one around. Or maybe it's a deep seated fear manifesting in your subconscious. No. Stop it. It's just because you're tired. It's the jet-lag. You consider texting him to find out when he'll be back, but you don't want to be THAT girlfriend. Girlfriend. The word in your thoughts and the reminder that you are finally his calms you. Everything is fine now, even though you will have to part ways again soon, at least you are together for real now. You take a deep cleansing breath, filling your lungs with air then blowing it out into the space around you. Rolling over, you clutch the sheets up to your chest and close your eyes, hoping that when you wake again, Taron will be next to you.


End file.
